


Shades Of Self

by Deyinel



Category: Ben 10 Series
Genre: Ben 10 Classic, Ben 10: Alien Force, Ben as Vilgax's pet, Brainwashing, Gen, Isolation, Kidnapping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:15:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 70,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24999688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deyinel/pseuds/Deyinel
Summary: Four years ago Ben surrendered to Vilgax to protect his town. In the present day Gwen fights to protect her world from Vilgax's army, and discovers Ben has become Vilgax's loyal pet. How did Vilgax gain the loyalty of the boy who would become the most powerful being in the galaxy?
Comments: 47
Kudos: 57





	1. Drive

Shades of Self  
Disclaimer: I don’t own Ben 10 or Ben 10: Alien Force  
Note: I have changed the series slightly for this fic. Most of the episodes happened just as they did in the show, with the exceptions of all the episodes in which the omnitrix came off Ben’s arm or had pieces broken off of it. This includes Back With A Vengeance and lots of others. So yes, Secrets has happened, but Vilgax never teamed up with Kevin. Also, The Secret of the Omnitrix never happened, and neither did any of the episodes where they travel to the future.  
All will eventually become clear, please bear with me until then.

“The first rule of war is to know yourself. Then you may focus on getting to know your enemy.”  
\- Ancient Xeraxian philosopher Merius.

Present Day

Gwen was riding in an elevator. It was not an old fashioned elevator with metal gates behind the doors, the kind that is still found sometimes in old hotels, nor was it a slick, wood paneled elevator with mirrors in the ceiling like the ones Ben always used to love making faces in. The elevator was traveling to the docking bay of Grayex’s spaceship. Once at the docking bay she would depart in the small stealth ship for her mission.

The elevator was made of some dark gray material that looked like metal, but felt like spongy stone, if that were even possible. Several of the irregular bumps in the ‘stone’ were actually knobs and switches for controlling the device when it was not on auto. Gwen could work them, but only slowly and with difficulty. The technology of Grayex’s people was incredibly complex. Ben would have been completely lost.

It surprised her how much it still hurt. Four whole years and she couldn’t think of him without pain, and it seemed these days as though she was always thinking of him. Where would she be now if Ben were still alive? Would she be back on earth worrying about her gymnastics meet and finding new and more exciting books to read? She missed her old life, missed it with a passion, but at the same time she knew she couldn’t return to it. The monster who had killed her cousin was out there somewhere with his army, and some deep, primal part of her, a part which had nothing to do with logic, with sums and equations, that part of her wanted revenge.

The elevator stopped with a hardly perceptible hiss, and Gwen stepped out through the smoothly sliding doors and into the enormous hanger. It was almost full today, she noted, with most of the scout ships having returned. Her own ship was waiting serenely for her in the center of the hanger near the ground. It was placed over one of the anti-gravity vents which would give it the lift it needed where there was no room for a runway, as now. 

Gwen felt a little shiver as she saw it there, so final and immovable. They were going after Vilgax, she and Grandpa. They were the only two members of the alliance who had actually fought Vilgax face to face, and therefore were the natural choice for the mission, although there had been many heated arguments on the subject. The other leaders were not happy with Gwen going on the mission because she was still a child, only fifteen, and they were not happy with Grandpa Max going because he was indispensable. There it is, she thought. We’re going on what may be a suicide mission. After all, we have only the word of one spy that Vilgax is not on his flagship at the moment, and if we fail, what will they do without Grandpa? But it didn’t matter. Grandpa was going; he was still the best at this sort of thing. Gwen also suspected that he felt just as she did. She wanted revenge, needed it, and she would not accept anyone’s arguments about why she shouldn’t go. 

What she really wanted was to fight Vilgax himself. She wanted to kill him, and end this war, but of course that really would be a suicide mission. No, her mission today was to eliminate his operative. But then, that would give her almost as much pleasure. For several reasons.

As she neared the sleek sweep of dark green that was their scout ship, Gwen noticed two figures standing aft. It was Grandpa Max and Grayex. The former was busy fastening up his weapons bag, while Grayex spoke urgently to him in a low voice, bristly red tail tapping agitatedly at the hanger floor.

“I still wish you would reconsider doing this Max,” the crimson alien said as Gwen approached, his rough, muddy voice raised in agitation.

“We discussed this,” Grandpa Max answered seriously. “The omnitrix makes Vilgax’s operative far too powerful. He has to be destroyed, and you know Gwen and I stand a much better chance of succeeding than anyone else.”

“I still don’t have to like it,” Grayex retorted. “We need you in this war Max, you and your niece and her spells. At least promise you’ll be careful. If you get in trouble, don’t try to salvage the plan, just get out.” He glanced over at Gwen where she had set her bag down and was listening to the conversation. The emotion in his large, violet eyes was difficult to comprehend. He then turned back to face his top operative. “The young of any species should be cherished,” Grayex said clearly. “Bring her back safe Max, no matter what happens.” Then he turned and headed off through the hanger toward the operations room, his tale twisting and scratching at the shining floor which cared nothing for the savage, foot long spikes. 

Grayex had always been one of the more intimidating aliens to Gwen. He was seven foot four and looked very similar to a knobby, crimson Allosaur, except that his arms were longer and much more muscular, and he walked completely upright instead of using his tail for balance. The tail itself was about five feet long and incredibly well muscled. It was surmounted by a clump of spines which were not poisoned exactly, but infected victims with a hallucinogenic drug of some kind. 

Gwen had always been skittish and unsure around him before, but now, upon seeing the intensity and genuine emotion in his eyes and seriousness of his voice, she wished that she had allowed herself the opportunity of getting to know him more. 

She shook it off. Perhaps when they came back…. But for right now they had to get going. Grandpa had already entered the hatchway into the ship and Gwen hastened to follow him. It didn’t really surprise her that he had not greeted her before entering. He was, after all, completely focused on the mission and what needed to be done to destroy Vilgax. 

He had been this way for four years.

The ship slowly lifted off with the aid of the anti-gravity vent and glided easily out of the docking bay and into the star filled darkness. 

Vilgax was not having a good day.

The large, imposing alien paced back and forth across his private stateroom, tentacles writhing as he mulled over the various annoyances in his life. Galactic conquest had slowed to a crawl at the moment, and he knew exactly who to blame. Tennyson. Of course, the old and frustratingly resilient man was not the only leader who opposed and hindered him, but Vilgax found it difficult not to blame at least some of his problems on his annoying enemy. 

As if that were not enough, his allies were growing twitchy owing to the lack of progress, and it would soon be necessary to remind them who was in command. He paused and drew in a deep breath to calm himself. His tentacles stopped their crawling and relaxed against him. He must not lose control. Control of self all too often meant control of the situation.

In fact, he was due to visit some of the outlying planets soon to see if they had anything useful. He should have departed already, before his previous rest cycle, but there had been several important matters which had delayed him; small, annoying things, but sadly, things which could not wait. At least dealing with them now meant that they would not bother him in his absence.

The truth was that he felt uneasy lately when he was away. It wasn’t that his pet couldn’t handle anything unexpected, or was in any danger, but Vilgax had recently begun suspecting that there was an information leak somewhere, and with Tennyson out there still that was a very worrying concept. 

He should have killed the human when he had had the chance. Well, perhaps that delightful option would appear again some day. Flexing his tentacles in something like a sigh, Vilgax returned to his view screen and sat down before the floating disk. He still had work to do.

The stars were so clear from space. Gwen had never really gotten used to the fiery points of light without the deadening glow of countless cities to blot them out. Not that she ever used to watch the stars; that had really been Ben’s territory. She had always had her eyes and heart set solidly on earth. Would she have grown up to be a doctor? A lawyer perhaps? She could have been anything back then. But she could not imagine herself there now. She had changed far too much. Besides, if they could not stop Vilgax the Earth wouldn’t even need doctors or lawyers. If there was an Earth. 

The piloting of the ship was handled almost entirely by the onboard computers. It had to be that way, Gwen had realized long ago, when she first learned about faster than light travel, because of the numerous factors which had to be accounted for as the ship hurtled through space. The few factors which had to be monitored and assessed by the pilot, in this case Grandpa, were easy enough to handle if you knew what you were doing. 

Of course, this left very little for Gwen to do except worry.

It was true, that old saying that you never knew what you had until it was gone. Gwen thought about that a lot these days, and it always managed to make her bitter. She had always known that she loved her cousin, of course. But it wasn’t until too late that she had known that it was all of him she loved. He was annoying, careless, silly and wild. They had always teased each other, but strangely it was these things about him that she missed the most. 

He had no business to have left her, to have up and died and left her here to fight the battles he had always loved. He had to die like the hero he always wanted to be, and always really had been.

Gwen blinked furiously to clear her vision and scrubbed at her cheek with one hand to remove the incriminating evidence.

This was pointless. They must be almost there by now. She would go up to the cockpit and see if there was anything she could do. At the least, there would be a different window for her to glare at.

Surprisingly, their infiltration went flawlessly. Gwen, thinking back on it later on, mused that this should have been a clue that something was about to go terribly wrong, but at the time she had her mind on only one thing; vengeance. 

Besides, Ben had always been the one to point out sci-fi clichés. 

Of course, he was usually the one to set them as well.

They moved into hostile space and were immediately challenged by a tired sounding Hapsitor. Grandpa never blinked, just reeled off their ship’s registration number and the secret codes. They had stolen a routine scout ship; nothing distinctive, nothing fancy, and the Hapistor was clearly not expecting anything amiss. They docked without incident, and then they were there, actually on Villgax’s ship. Gwen could hardly believe it. 

Now they were walking through the wide, red hallways, patiently trying to find their way. It wasn’t easy. The ship was like a gigantic maze of blood-red hallways, like the insides of a massive beast, and although it was late into the standard sleep cycle, the hallways were far from empty. They had to stay out of site as they traveled. There was too much likelihood of Grandpa being recognized if they were spotted. 

Yes, perhaps Gwen should have been more on her guard, but the fact was that she wasn’t. And so when the enemy finally did appear, she was completely unprepared. All she was able to register was a blue-green blur which came at her from the side. She heard Grandpa cry out, and then a burning pain scalded her skull and she felt herself falling, but she wasn’t awake when she hit the ground.

Maybe she should have been prepared, but there probably wasn’t anything she could have done anyway.

Hope everyone liked the first chapter. Let me know what you think!


	2. Beginning

Shades of Self chapter 2  
Disclaimer: No, Vilgax, you do not own Ben 10. And neither do I. Yeah, it makes me sad too.  
I actually have the main points of this story planned out already. It’s just the in-between parts I need to work on more.   
You’ll notice a bit of a rewrite of the final episode here. ;)   
Written mostly to 3 Doors Down, so if you like to listen to music while you read that will help create the mood.

“When you finally crack your way out of your egg you are alone. No one will feed you or protect you when you are in danger. The whole world knows this, but you will not realize it until the first of them comes crawling out of the swamp to eat you.”  
\- Fieralsten, eminent Nistaraen psychologist

Four Years Ago.

Ben didn’t surrender; he knew that, at least not completely. 

It was funny though. All summer he had dreaded coming back to Bellewood. It was the dullest town on the face of the earth, he felt sure. Nothing ever happened there, and worse, he wasn’t allowed to show any of the kids at school just what he was capable of. 

The irony didn’t escape him, it just sucked.

The point was that he hadn’t expected Vilgax to appear. It seemed almost _wrong,_ as though he had violated something private. This was his life; his boring, tormented and chore-filled life. Why did his enemy have to destroy it?

His town was burning. Great plumes of smoke rose high above the familiar buildings, lit from beneath by a horrible red light. Those floating robots Vilgax was so fond of were everywhere, zooming here and there and leaving fire behind them like metallic demons.

Not that Ben thought of them that way. He simply saw everything he knew going up in smoke. 

He was in alien form of course, Heatblast, and he had been fighting. He wanted to make Vilgax pay for intruding. Before today, he had thought that a little danger and fear would be good for the other kids in his class, sort of shake them out of their self-absorbed lives and show them what was important, but now, as he saw them running every which way, panic stricken, some bleeding, tears trickling down grime-covered cheeks, he felt the numb grasp of horror on his heart. This was not a game or a lesson, it was his home, and he was going to save it.

Until now, Ben had only seen Vilgax’s drones, and had allowed himself to hope that perhaps the alien had once again neglected to come searching for the omnitrix himself, but that hope fled when he turned onto his street and caught sight of the place where his house used to be.

It wasn’t a house any more, just a ruin of splintered wood and scorched brick. For a moment, Ben could only stand there, staring. Then he heard a whirring noise behind him, and dove to the side, barely managing to avoid the drone’s laser. He turned to see that the street he had come down was crowded with drones, hovering silently. And yet, not a single one had its sights trained on him. Even the one he had avoided was no longer hovering behind him, but had backed off slightly. Ben sucked in his breath slightly as he saw their target. It was the only outward indicator of his horror that showed on his flaming face.

In the center of the street, far away from the surrounding buildings, or indeed any sort of cover, huddled a small group of townspeople. There were about thirty of them, and even from this distance, Ben could pick out familiar faces. There were a few teachers from his school, kids he knew, people he passed every day. But surrounding them were the drones; silent, waiting. There were also a group of humanoid robots but similar to the drones in colour and design. The new robots all held some kind of energy gun in their seven fingered hands.

A sudden grinding noise pulled Ben’s attention back to the ruins of his house to see Vilgax emerging from behind the sagging doorway.

“Well little hero, here we are once again,” the alien rasped.

“Man, just what is with you?” Ben complained. His mind, however, was not on the words. Instead, he was busy trying to figure out how quickly Heatblast could take out the drones, and whether he could do it without anyone being hurt. It would have been easier as XLR8, but that wasn’t an option right now, unfortunately.

“Don’t even think about it boy,” Vilgax said warningly. The alien’s eyes narrowed and he stepped further out from the ruins. In one hand he held the limp form of Ben’s father. He seemed unconscious, and he looked like a child next to the huge alien. He looked very fragile. Almost as if he could read Ben’s mind, Vilgax said “None of them have thus far been harmed.” The implication was clear, and Vilgax didn’t really need to say any more. Ben wasn’t about to risk fighting when his enemy had so many hostages. This wasn’t over, but for now…

“All right, you win.”

No sooner had he spoken then he felt robotic hands clamp around his arms like two vices. He looked to see that two of the humanoid robots must have come up behind him while he had been facing off with Vilgax. Each of the robots had clapped one hand around his arms, not so tight that they hurt, but with no freedom to move within that metal grip. They were easily eight feet tall and seemed far more powerful than they were showing. Ben would have found it easier not to be intimidated by them, if the omnitrix hadn’t chosen that moment to deactivate. Ben was momentarily blinded by the red light as he felt his limbs shrinking and his flames going out. He also felt the robots’ hands tighten swiftly as his arms shrank. No wiggle room there.

His hair blew back suddenly as a small red spaceship settled to the ground only about twenty feet from him. It was streamlined, needle-nosed, and clearly designed to fly within Earth’s atmosphere. Vilgax had planned thoroughly this time; Ben had to give him that.

“Come,” Vilgax said simply, and Ben turned to find the alien depositing his father on the ground, not ungently. Still, the man groaned when he stuck the ground, and Ben felt relieved at the sound. Vilgax turned and strode easily toward his ship, never looking back. Ben walked behind him at the silent urgings of his metal captors. They walked swiftly and steadily, almost marching, but still slowly enough for him to keep pace with them. Ahead, a door opened in the side of the waiting ship, and a gangplank extended like a long, dark red tongue.

Ben’s mind was racing, but he knew that any escape attempt must come after Vilgax was well away from his town. Until then, there was too much of a risk of the alien carrying out his threat. He likely wouldn’t be able to do anything until the omnitrix reactivated anyway. As he walked, Ben kept his eye on Vilgax. He noticed that the tentacles which surrounded the alien’s head were shifting gently, as though they were willow twigs caught in a light breeze as the alien walked up the gangplank and into the ship. He wasn’t sure why he was focusing on Vilgax’s anatomy. Perhaps it was to keep himself from looking back at the confused, frightened faces behind him. He couldn’t deal with their discovery of him, not this way, and not this quickly, and not…now. When he got back he would deal with it, but not now.

But as he reached the gangplank himself, he couldn’t help it. He didn’t pause, as his two new metal friends wouldn’t let him, but as his feet hit the sloping, red mat, he glanced back over his shoulder at his smoke-shrouded town. 

The hovering drones were slowly moving away, and the collected citizens looked slightly less huddled. And most of them seemed to be looking, or rather staring wide-eyed, at him. Of course; they finally knew who he was, who else he was. Yes, there would certainly be problems when he came back, but Ben found that it didn’t worry him at the moment, at least until his current problems had been dealt with, hopefully with an explosion of some kind. Instead, he found himself searching with his eyes for one particular person, for Gwen, although he wasn’t sure why. Whatever the reason, he didn’t see her. And then he was inside, and the thick, metal door clanged shut behind him. It was a medium sized room, high ceilinged, and empty. Vilgax must be up front, piloting.

Immediately, the small ship rose into the air and began climbing rapidly. It happened so suddenly that Ben swayed on his feet and would have fallen if his robots hadn’t still been gripping his arms. It was a fast flight, with no indication of speed after that first jolt, and lacked any kind of viewing port to gage their speed by. However, it was fast enough that Ben didn’t even have time to formulate one escape plan before the small vessel slowed and then slid to a stop as, Ben supposed, it made contact with its mother ship.  
The door opened again shortly after that, and Ben was guided through it and into a large, black metal room, accented by dark red bands the same colour as the transport ship, and filled with other dark red, gray or black ships of various sizes and designs. The lighting was rather dim and came from some undefined place. Ben wondered idly whether Vilgax employed the same decorator that stereotypical Goths seemed to use. As if summoned by the thought, (or perhaps simply because they were far enough away from the doorway,) Vilgax emerged from the ship. He looked down at Ben, held between the two impassive robots and no doubt looking as uncomfortable as he felt, and his tentacles rippled gently again. His expression was unchanged and unreadable; alien.

Vilgax crossed to the wall and touched a section of it with one claw. A panel opened in the smooth wall with a hiss, and the alien reached down and removed something small, (to him), which he then tossed to the robot holding Ben’s left arm. Robots move quickly. Before Ben had even realized what was happening, the Robot had grabbed his left hand and snapped a thick, metal cuff over his wrist, completely covering the omnitrix. It was clearly made to do exactly that, as it had been built to fit snugly around Ben’s wrist on either side, but the middle was designed to have room for the bulky watch to fit inside it. Ben looked at his wrist, then up at Vilgax again.

“Just how well did you plan this?” he asked, not really expecting an answer. Vilgax wasn’t exactly the chatty type. He was not disappointed in that regard.  
“Lock him up,” the alien growled, this being his normal tone of voice.

As the robots pulled Ben out of the docking bay and towards wherever Vilgax locked people up when he didn’t feel like going strait for the ‘mutilate’ option, Ben tried to remember the rout for later. He also reviewed his chances. (1) Vilgax was having him escorted by robots. Not good; they likely couldn’t be intimidated and seemed pretty strong, not to mention lacking the ability to be persuaded or reasoned with. They didn’t even seem to _notice_ him, despite their firm grip on his arms. (2) Vilgax had managed to effectively disable the omnitrix. This was even less good, though there was likely a way to get it off. (3) Vilgax was locking him up for at least a little while before he tried to detach the omnitrix. Better. That gave him more time to think of escape plans.

A thick, dark gray door slid open, and Ben was pushed unceremoniously through it and into a medium sized room, also dark gray. The door slid shut, finally separating Ben from his two escorts. Ben glanced around the cell and found that it was extremely Spartan. There were no furnishings beside a single bed which was built on a ledge coming off of the wall. There was a small door in the back of the room, which was unlocked, but merely lead to a (surprisingly human looking) restroom. The bed surprised him; even if he didn’t escape before Vilgax came for him, Ben doubted that he would be here long enough to use it. What could possibly be so important that Vilgax would put it before obtaining the omnitrix. 

Ben sighed and sat down on the hard, metal floor against one of the hard, metal walls. He needed to start working on getting that cuff off. Ghostfreak could get out of here in three seconds. 

With any luck, he’d be out of here before he had to look at Vilgax’s repulsive face one more time.

Thanks for reading guys.  
Let me know what you think of this chapter. I quite like it, but it took me a lot of rewriting before I was happy with the tone. I wanted to keep Ben like himself, so I’d love some feedback on how well I was able to do that.  
For the next chapter we go back to the present for a while. Hope no one has forgotten Gwen’s plight… Also, you will experience my twist, which I doubt will surprise anyone. But I can dream. ;)   
See you all next time!


	3. Discovery

Shades Of Self Chapter 3  
Disclaimer: Not mine. I merely follow my muse.  
Enjoy my surprise which is probably not very surprising! ;)  
Note: In this story, I have written Vilgax as normally using his tentacles to show expression. The way I will be handling this is that when the story is from Vilgax’s point of view, or the point of view of someone who knows his expressions, I will generally simply write out the equivalent expression, ex. ‘Vilgax smirked’, or possibly ‘Vilgax’s tentacles moved in a smirk.’ However, when the story is from someone’s point of view who doesn’t know what the changing tentacles mean, such as Gwen, I will describe what the tentacles are doing without explaining what they mean, ex. ‘Vilgax’s tentacles shifted.’ Hopefully this won’t be too confusing for anyone. I think it works, but then I know what Vilgax is expressing. ;) If anyone gets confused, feel free to send me a PM and I’ll clarify any confusion you have. (You can also do that for other aspects of the story. I know it’s a weird one.)  
And now…the next chapter of Shades of Self.

“Put not your trust in those of your blood, for blood merely keeps the body alive. Nor can you trust those who were once your friends, for friendship is fleeting once you have parted. Trust only he whose growth you saw and whose depth you know. Trust he who is always with you.”  
\- Sayings of Ba’an Qo (Bistrin wise woman)

Present Day

She had never even seen him.

That was Gwen’s first thought upon waking. She had spent years training for this mission, even before she had known what exactly it would be, they both had; Grandpa had been even more driven than she was. And now that it came down to it, neither of them had even put up a fight.

Her next thought: why wasn’t she dead?

Gwen had begun to notice a painful feeling in her arms as though they were stretched too far. She opened her eyes and realized that she was chained to the wall. Her arms were indeed pulled away from her above her head and attached by metal cuffs which covered her wrists and went halfway up her arms. They exuded a soft, blue light, as she could see when she craned her neck upwards. The same thing had been done to her legs, and there was even a thick, metal band around her abdomen. Glancing to her right, she saw that Grandpa was hanging next to her, similarly bound and apparently still unconscious. 

They were in a large room of unadorned gray metal. It seemed too large for a cell, but too bare for anything else. Gwen particularly didn’t like the restraints. She felt too helpless bound like this. The position also made spell working difficult, as she couldn’t move her arms very much. At least her fingers were free. If she could just get down from here, she could free Grandpa and get them out of here before anyone came for them. 

She could only assume that the reason that the two of them hadn’t been killed yet was because they were going to be questioned. Likely they would be held here until Vilgax returned, so they had a little time, but she didn’t like to count on that. It would be best to get out of here now.

Inhaling, Gwen focused her thoughts and searched her mind for the spell of unbinding. She had particularly looked it up, as she did before all of her missions, but she had long ago committed all of the spells in her book to memory. Mentally selecting the correct spell, Gwen scrabbled on the wall behind her with her feet, her right foot finally finding purchase on a seam in the metal. This in turn allowed her to pull herself up slightly; giving her arms some needed slack. It was still awkward, but she could do it.

Bracing herself, she muttered the words, shifting her arms and fingers into the mystic signs. She felt the familiar build of the power inside her, but suddenly the spell was interrupted. Gwen’s restraints flashed brilliant blue and she screamed as her power burned her from the inside. Every part of her seemed to melt before its searing heat, and then it was gone, and she slumped back against the wall.

Her hair was hanging in her face like an orange mist before her eyes, but Gwen couldn’t summon the strength to lift her head. Her body flinched and shivered involuntarily at the memory of that pain.

When she could think again, Gwen realized that this was a nasty development. No magic. Vilgax had clearly accounted for her powers. Except Vilgax wasn’t here, and there was no way he could have known that they were coming. Maybe this was just some standard feature he had included in his restraints. She probably should have tried another spell just to be certain, but the pain had been so strong Gwen was afraid to try it. Next time she might lose consciousness or worse.

In any case, there wasn’t time to try another spell. One wall of their cell abruptly slid back with a soft ‘click’ and Vilgax strode confidently through. 

They were now officially in trouble.

Gwen couldn’t believe it for a moment. Either their contact had decided to double cross them, or he was being deceived himself, because the leader of the Trestriel forces was here, and he wasn’t supposed to be. She had no idea what they were going to do now. Distractedly, she realized the reason this room was so large. She always managed to forget how large Vilgax was until he appeared again.

Vilgax had not entered alone, but she was so focused on him that it took Gwen a moment to notice his companion. Riding on Vilgax’s shoulder was an alien which resembled nothing so much as a blue, four armed monkey. It was quite a large monkey, but looked small next Vilgax, like everything else did. It wore no clothes, but around its neck was a smooth collar made of some black metal.

Vilgax’s gaze strayed over Gwen and Grandpa idly, as though they were of no consequence, but the other alien kept its six large dark eyes fixed on them.

Gwen glared at Vilgax as the alien came to a halt in front of them. She was afraid, but she was also quivering with hatred towards this being who had caused her so much pain. Apparently unimpressed, her enemy turned away slightly, as though disregarding them and everything they stood for. The long tentacles on his head rippled slowly, the ends twitching and crawling like blind worms. 

As Gwen watched, Vilgax reached up and gently touched the other alien’s head with one massive finger. In response, the monkey-creature leaped gracefully down from Vilgax’s shoulder to land on the floor by his feet. Even as it landed, its body began to change, the blue fur disappearing into the skin, the extraneous pair of arms and tail shrinking into the body and the spine and legs straitening as the face adjusted itself. 

There was no sudden flash of green light, and Gwen had only a moment to realize that this must be the omnitrix wielder before the transformation was complete, and then all such musings fled from her mind.

For four years Gwen had been training. 

She had been too late to see Ben leave for the last time, and from the moment that she had arrived at the remains of his house, dirty and out of breath, only to see Vilgax’s ship, along with her cousin, disappearing into the atmosphere, there had been nothing else she could do. 

At first, quite naturally, she had expected Ben to come back. It wouldn’t have been the first time he had been captured by Vilgax and managed to free himself. And back in those days he always seemed so indestructible.

Days passed, and then weeks, and then one day Vilgax’s first attack came, on a remote planet at the edge of the civilized galaxy. And it was then Gwen knew that Ben was dead. 

Reports from several planetary citizens who had managed to escape described Vilgax fighting with a creature that shifted through the forms of many aliens, some of which had never been seen before. Grandpa and Gwen had realized then that Vilgax must have given the omnitrix to one of his operatives. They didn’t know why Vilgax had not duplicated the omnitrix, as had been his original plan, but assumed that he had not been able to for some reason. The Plumbers had been brought back into action to combat the threat, and after those reports, joining the fight was the only thing Gwen could do.

It had been a long four years, spent learning many different ways to use the spells in a spell book that had become increasingly worn, and using what she had learned to develop spells of her own. She had trained with the Plumbers and their allies, honed her fighting skills and become formidable with fourteen different alien weapons. Through it all, her drive for revenge had carried her. It sustained her when all she wanted was to go home to her parents. It became an almost painful ache when she saw friends and companions die in battle. And it kept her awake some nights when she remembered something Ben had done long ago, or the way he smirked, and she had to push her face into the pillow so no one in the close quarters would hear her sobs.

It had not been a pleasant period in her life, and sometimes she wondered whether this was all that her life would consist of from this time on, but still she would not let herself quit and return home. 

Because she had to prove that she hadn’t forgotten him and the sacrifice he had made to keep their home safe. She had to show that she remembered he was a hero. And she had to destroy Vilgax for what he had done.

Four years had passed, but he still looked like her cousin.

He was different, of course. He seemed to have grown into his body now. He was tall and muscled but lean, with an agile grace that he had certainly never had before. His face was fine-boned and slender. His hair was the same dark brown it used to be, but it was slightly longer, and hung around his face slightly, giving him a roguish appearance. He was dressed in black touched with olive green at the throat, and around his neck the same black circlet rested. His eyes were the same colour as she remembered, that yellow-green that she always used to find annoying, but their expression now was wary and calculating, and Gwen saw no recognition in them, and none of Ben’s curiosity or playful mischief.

And yet, Gwen felt that she could weep for joy that he was alive. She wasn’t stupid, and she knew that if this was Ben than he was in trouble, they all were, and he had gone through much more in the past four years than she had with all of her grief and pain, but still he was here, and that meant that it wasn’t over yet.

Vilgax watched Tennyson carefully. His old foe had been attempting to feign unconsciousness, but he had flinched when Ben had changed, as Vilgax had known he would. He felt a rush of pleasure at the old man’s pain. Humans and their weaknesses were so predictable. Not that he needed their weaknesses to control them this time. They were already helpless. No, this was merely for his own enjoyment. And it was worth postponing his trip for it. Oh yes, worth it many times over. 

And yet, he found himself somewhat disturbed by the girl’s expression. He had not expected her to look so…positive. 

Nevertheless, his pleasure was not dampened by it. He glanced at his guarded pet fondly. It had been a long road these four years, but the end result was the loyalty of the most powerful being in the known universe. 

He allowed himself a smile of triumph. He had won.

Thanks for reading!   
I have kept Ben’s appearance similar to that in “Alien Force”, as I thought he was done very well in that show. The only things I have really changed are the length of his hair and, most importantly, I kept his eyes the same yellow-green colour that they were in the original “Ben 10” show. I always liked how they looked and hated that they were changed to bright green for “Alien Force”.   
Gwen looks the same as she does in “Alien Force”, except that she has shorter hair. You have also seen that her powers remain the same as those in the original show.  
Vilgax looks the way that he does in the original show, except that he is no longer wearing his breath mask.   
Hopefully that is not too confusing for everyone. You will see a lot more descriptions of people in future chapters, but I thought it would be good to put a little explanation here, for the purpose of anyone who wants to know exactly how the characters look.  
See you all soon!


	4. Dilemma

Shades Of Self Chapter 4  
Disclaimer: Not mine!  
If anyone has read the book West of Eden I love you guys! I don’t usually plan on having quotes from actual books in this story, but this one really wanted to be here. I think you can guess why. ;)  
This was written to Three Days Grace and 3 Doors Down, and also some Owl City, if you like listening to music while you read.

“Kerrick’s posture of acceptance was as false as the pleasure of all the rest in the chamber was true. He reached out slowly with his toe and rolled it over the length of the lead where it lay on the floor, already thinking of possible ways to sever it.”  
\- (page 119) West of Eden by Harry Harrison

“Never Surrender, for when you surrender you are dead.”  
\- Aassk motto

Four Years Ago

He had tried everything, and he couldn’t get it off.

Ben looked at the cuff on his wrist with loathing, and perhaps a little respect. It was tight to his skin, and he couldn’t get his fingers inside it without going through the flesh of his wrist, which he wasn’t willing to do unless his situation got a whole lot more desperate. He had tried to pry it open, but had failed to even find the seams in the metal where it attached. He had beaten it against the wall and the floor to no avail, and he had even tried picking at various places on it with a paper clip he had found in his pocket in the hopes of finding a keyhole. Nothing.

What was with Vilgax and threatening the people he loved anyway? Did he read the tip out of some villain manual? _‘For best results, try kidnapping a close relative…’_

Discouraged, Ben sat back against the wall again and let his eyes rove around the cell. It was gray and Spartan and rather uninspiring. Not that he’d expected Vilgax to provide his prisoner with video games or famous works of art, but it was still a little dull.

He looked down at the cuff again. It wasn’t even scratched. He probably wouldn’t be able to get it off by himself. He would just have to wait until Vilgax or one of his subordinates came to get him and see what he could do then.

What was taking Vilgax so long anyway?

Vilgax was watching Ben.

Through the micro camera in the boy’s cell, Vilgax watched his prisoner silently. He allowed his tentacles to ripple slightly in amusement at Ben’s continued attempts to free himself from his shackle. Persistence had always been one of the human’s most frustrating, and admirable, qualities. 

Finally the boy slumped down against one wall as though defeated, but Vilgax could tell that Ben wasn’t truly beaten, just as he hadn’t truly been beaten earlier when he had surrendered. He was likely still thinking of possible ways to escape. It didn’t matter in the end. The boy was already his, and he would learn it soon enough. 

Vilgax turned away from the view screen. Perhaps he was putting the moment off because of the pain he knew it would cause. Vilgax was not a being who enjoyed inflicting unnecessary suffering on any creature, still less a child, barely hatched it seemed, particularly after spending so long watching and fighting him. Still, he had always been willing to do what was necessary, and this, sadly, was.

As the lock on his cell door clicked open, Ben got nervously to his feet. He hadn’t yet been able to think of a way out of this, and it looked like his time was running short. He glanced again at the stupid cuff stopping him from breaking out, or even just phasing through the walls. He was so used to the omnitrix now that being without it felt like losing a hand. It made him feel incredibly vulnerable.

The door slid open to reveal more of the bipedal robots and behind them, looming in doorway, Vilgax. 

Perfect.

Because apparently he couldn’t get even one lucky break today.

Ben stayed standing in the middle of the room. He had nothing to use as a weapon, and he couldn’t go alien, so waiting for an opportunity was still his best option. Hopefully Vilgax would need to remove the cuff in order to get the omnitrix off, unless he just opted to try to cut Ben’s arm off again. (Cutting out the middle-man, as it were.)  
The robots clearly knew exactly what to do. They crossed to Ben without hesitation and seized his arms again in that familiar uncompromising grip. Ben had been meaning to keep his mouth shut for now, but he couldn’t help blurting out:

“Do you mind? I’m kind of attached to those arms.” There was no response. Not that Ben had really expected one.

Vilgax strode into the cell like the master of all he surveyed. Though the room was large for a cell, it looked small by comparison. The alien was so tall that his head nearly touched the high ceiling. Ben fought the urge to pull away from his robots. It wasn’t going to do any good at the moment and he knew it, but he was having trouble convincing his body of the fact. 

Vilgax was now standing directly in front of Ben. Suddenly, he crouched down. Even with the alien at less than half his height, Ben was forced to look up at his captor.  
“Don’t move,” Vilgax growled. 

Ben responded by ditching his previous plan, and promptly lurching backward as far as he could. 

“Hold him,” Vilgax ordered emotionlessly. One of Ben’s robots seized him by the hair of all things and held his head in place. 

“Hey!” Ben yelped, wincing at the pain. He watched Vilgax nervously. At least he wasn’t holding a giant glowing sword.

Vilgax reached down towards Ben. He paused for a moment, almost as though he were hesitant, and then he reached nimbly down and touched something on Ben’s cuff, which obligingly clicked open and fell with clatter to the floor. 

Instantly, Ben yanked on his left hand as hard and as swiftly as possible, trying to free it from the robot’s grip. He felt the skin of his arm sliding between metal fingers for only an instant, and then the hand tightened abruptly, and his arm stopped sliding. He couldn’t help yelping; that had pinched!

“Still you are defiant.” It was impossible to tell whether Vilgax’s observation expressed annoyance, indifference or amusement, or indeed any of them. Ben inhaled deeply. There didn’t seem to be the need for a reply. He kept watching Vilgax nervously. 

Another robot approached, and held out a large, metal box, which Vilgax took carefully, as though it was very small and fragile, which actually seemed to be the case for him. The alien opened the box, and withdrew something that looked like a flexible, metal ribbon. It was thin and black, and it looked very small in Vilgax’s hand, just like everything else, but the alien handled it with almost unbelievable gentleness. His red eyes, however, had not once left Ben’s face. Now he leaned forward swiftly. Ben instinctively tried to lurch backward and couldn’t. Vilgax was impossibly close to him; the alien’s slick tentacles seemed mere inches from his face. The robot behind him tightened its grip on his hair, and Ben’s eyes smarted from the pain. And then he felt the cold touch of metal at his throat.

“What are you…” he started, but before he could finish speaking, there was a soft ‘click’, at his throat that he felt more than heard, and then Vilgax moved away from him and rose again to his impressive height.

“Don’t move,” Vilgax said again, and at the same time, the robots released Ben. Ben stood silently. The omnitrix was uncovered, but he didn’t grab for it to change into one of his aliens, and he didn’t try to run, to put some distance between himself and his captors. He stood there, not because he wanted to, but because for the moment he had no choice.  
It wasn’t that he tried to move and couldn’t, it was simply that moving had suddenly become impossible. When he thought about moving, it was as though he was imagining what it would be like to fly through the sky while he was still human. He could entertain the thought, but there was no reality of it happening, and he knew it.

He stared at Vilgax, aghast. _What did you do to me?_ he wanted to ask, to demand, but his lips and vocals were as frozen as an arctic night. 

Talking counted as moving.

It didn’t occur to him at the moment, but in retrospect it seemed strange to him that his heart continued to beat, his lungs to expand and contract.

Vilgax stood watching him for a moment, as he stood there, shallow, panicked breaths making his ribcage tremble as though shaken by the wind, and then the alien spoke again.

“You will not use the omnitrix, you will not leave this room, and you will not harm it, or anyone on this ship in any way.” He paused for a moment, perhaps taking in the effect of his words in Ben’s clear, yellow-green irises, than he turned and strode towards the open door. At the threshold he turned for a moment, and met his captive’s eyes for one last indecipherable look. “You may move,” he rasped, and then he swept out the door, and the robots went with him. 

Even as Ben opened his mouth to speak the door slid shut like a curtain pulled across his eyes, and Ben was alone, staring rigidly at a door he could not open, whether or not it was locked.

Hey guys, hope you’re not too disturbed. Yet.   
Yes, Vilgax isn’t one for long explanations. Some light will likely be shed on the situation next chapter when you see some things from his point of view. There will still be some mysteries of course. Otherwise it wouldn’t be as much fun.  
Unfortunately, it only gets darker from here, so you should be warned that the next part of Ben’s story is not going to be pleasant.  
Thanks for reading, and see you all next time!


	5. Defenseless

Shades Of Self chapter 5  
Disclaimer: I don’t own Ben 10 or any related shows.  
At least partially written to Skillet. 

“Preparation can only take you so far. For the rest you must trust to the will of the cosmos.”  
\- Lont-riis, her Art of Life

Four Years Ago

“No one will speak to him or have any contact with him at all.”

“What if he escapes, Warlord?”

“He will not escape.” One of Vilgax’s tentacles twitched in annoyance, and the Zithsian turned his back on his captain to survey the view from the ship’s bridge. It was certainly an impressive one. 

The _Antarasin_ was Vilgax’s personal warship, and it was both elegant and a marvel of Zithsian engineering. The ship was like a sleek Marsien on the hunt. It had been built in space and would never land, but in its element it was swift and deadly. _Antarasin_ required a crew compliment of eighty, in addition to the battle droids and the thirty pilots needed to fly the smaller ships in the docking bay. _Antarasin`_ s colour scheme was generally reds, blacks and grays; colours of power, proclaiming it a ship of the warlord.

From his position on the bridge, Vilgax could see four pilots working diligently at the controls; three Anceis and a Thaa-ank. Their eyes flicked back and forth from the surrounding screens to the controls at their appendages, deftly interoperating the information provided by the ship`s scanners and the resulting recommendations. Traveling through the depths of space was no easy business, and the sixteen pilots on Vilgax`s flag-ship had all been trained since birth to communicate with the complicated ships` computers and read the constantly changing information they provided. 

Vilgax`s eyes rested on the smooth curves and the cool metal of the computers, and their harmony with the curves of the ship itself. Behind him, he sensed his captain salute briefly, and then move to another part of the bridge to oversee some minor operation. The matter required no further discussion, and the captain was intelligent enough to realize that. Every crewmember on the _Antarasin_ had traveled with Vilgax before and knew when they could push him for answers and when they could not.  
Vilgax scanned the entirety of the bridge once more to ensure that everything was in order, and then he turned and headed towards his personal rooms in another part of the ship. He had just realized that he was feeling hungry. He had not eaten since early this morning before his visit to Bellwood, and at that thought he twitched one tentacle in mild amusement; he had nearly forgotten, and he had nearly forgotten something else as well. 

Vilgax changed his course towards the kitchens. At least he was prepared. This would not take long, and then he would retire to his rooms.

Once again, Ben was alone with his thoughts, only this time he was both panicked and confused. 

After a moment, he realized that he was still standing there and staring at the door. He stumbled backwards jerkily until he could feel metal at his back, and then he leaned against the wall and let his head _thunk_ against it gently. Hesitantly, he reached up until the forefinger of his right hand brushed the smooth metal circlet around his neck. He snatched his finger back at once, as though bitten, and then reached up again. This time, he let his fingers rest on the metal for a moment, and then he suddenly hooked them under the circle until they were between the metal and the front of his neck. 

Then he closed his fingers over the metal tightly and yanked until it dug into the back of his neck. He yanked it again in another direction, gripping it until his fingers hurt where they closed around it and his breath was hitching in his throat. Then he released the collar and dropped his hand back to his side. He unclenched his left fist and felt the indents of his nails in the soft skin of his palm as they slowly returned to normal.

It was slightly flexible when he pulled on it, yet stiffened back into its original shape when he let go. And it didn’t really feel like metal. It was lighter than it should have been, and felt as warm as his skin. Wrong.

Of _course_ that was what he was worried about; how space metal was different from Earth metal.

Strangely, he felt a little calmer now; still scared, but slightly less panicked. He slumped back against the wall until he was sitting once again, and grabbed his knees with his hands. He just had to think. He’d dealt with shock collars before, back when he and Kevin had been imprisoned by that Slix robot. He had handled that, but those restraints hadn’t had anything on this one, and at least during that experience he had had people to talk to, and people who could tell him what was going on. 

He wished he could figure out why Vilgax was doing this.

Usually the alien’s motives were clear; gain the omnitrix, kill Ben and anyone in the way. Nice and simple. 

Impulsively, he rose from his crouch and began pacing. His cell was large, but it still didn’t take him long to reach the far wall. The silence was beginning to get to him too. He wondered whether Vilgax was watching him through some secret camera waiting for him to crack. But why would the alien even care? True, Ben hadn’t tangled with Vilgax that many times over the summer, but the alien had always been clear that he despised Ben for wasting the omnitrix’s potential, and everyone else on earth simply for being human. He had even described his plan to Ben the very first time they had fought. He wanted to make thousands of omnitrixes and use them to equip an army. What reason could he possibly have for locking Ben up here with this thing on his neck?

The pacing seemed to have helped a little. At any rate, Ben now felt slightly less like a caged animal. 

He resisted the urge to search for spy cameras. He didn’t think he’d find them anyway. Instead, he crossed back to his side of the room and leaned against the wall again. He looked down at the omnitrix, bare on his wrist, wishing he could activate it. He _hated_ feeling like this. It was worse than being chained up, because at least then it was some external thing keeping him from escaping, and it was clear what had to be done to break his bonds. He hated feeling so helpless, so out of his depth. He didn’t know what to expect or prepare for, or even what he could do if he knew.

The door opened.

Ben turned at the sound to see one of the bipedal robots from earlier. He tensed, acutely aware of the command that he not leave the room or attack anyone on the ship. The robot was carrying a large bin of some kind of dark gray metal in both hands. It now set this on the floor, turned and left the cell, closing the door behind it.

Ben looked at this new addition to his room. After a moment, he walked over to it where it sat innocently on the floor. It was about two feet long and one and a half feet wide. It curved up into a lip about a foot from the floor, and was sealed by a curving lid of the same material. Like a large, metal casserole dish. At the thought, his stomach rumbled, and Ben placed a hand on it in surprise. He hadn’t even noticed he was hungry. 

He knelt down and lifted the lid on the container gingerly, again wondering whether he was being watched. The lid was lighter than it looked and came away from the container easily. It clanged softly as he set it on the floor next to him. He looked inside. 

Well, it sort of looked like food.

Inside the container was a tall, capped cylinder that looked like a futuristic water bottle, (or a storage container for hazardous waste), and a round plate supporting what looked like six patties of various colours. There were two large dark brown, oval patties, three long and skinny ones coloured dark green with orange hints, and a pale yellow circular one. None of it looked all that appetizing, but it resembled food enough that Ben’s stomach rumbled again. He was thirsty too, he now realized. When he swallowed his mouth and throat felt dry and dusty, and he thought he could still taste the smoke from Bellwood.

Bottom line: if Vilgax wanted to kill him, there were much easier ways. It also seemed to make sense to eat in order to keep his strength up in case the opportunity for escape somehow presented itself, although that reasoning might just be his stomach talking. He supposed he could just try it.

The container would be difficult to work around, so Ben reached inside and lifted the plate and the cylinder out and set them in front of him on the floor. There was no table in the room. He stared at the dishes for a moment, wondering what to try first. Finally, he decided that his thirst was the most immediate problem. He picked up the cylinder and, after examining it for a frustrating minute, figured out how it opened. He flicked the cap upwards and then looked into the tube, swirling the liquid inside to try to get a good look at it. It seemed like the consistency of water, but it was hard to tell the colour. He swallowed again. With it right in front of him, his throat burned insistently. Ben sighed mentally. At this point, he supposed he’d drink it no matter what colour it was. 

He lifted the cylinder up to his mouth, tilted it, and drank. He swallowed the liquid, and then drank again. It was good. It tasted like fresh, clean water; cleaner than he had ever tasted before, and underneath the flavor of the water, he thought he could taste the faintest hint of strawberries. Ben set the container down again, half empty. He felt much better, and a little less hesitant about trying the food. 

He selected one of the dark brown objects and picked it up in one hand. It was sort of the colour of well-cooked hamburger, but it didn’t feel greasy, just dry.   
_It can’t be worse than Grandpa’s cooking,_ he thought, and took a bite.

It wasn’t. It had a distinct meaty flavor, something like beef and something like pork, but belonging to neither. It wasn’t as good as the stakes his dad cooked on the barbecue, but it was definitely palatable. The texture was sort of spongy and slightly off-putting, but the flavor made it bearable. He tried the rest of the food with similar results. The long green and orange things tasted like green beans and carrot, although the texture was similar to that of the meat-thing. The yellow circle tasted like a combination of oranges, bananas and butterscotch and almost seemed like something you would order in a cake shop, as the spongy texture was much more appropriate. 

When he had cleaned the plate, Ben felt comfortably full. He finished off the remainder of the water, then replaced the dishes in the container and covered it. He wasn’t sure why, except that it gave him something more to do.

Somehow the normal action of eating, even though the food was anything but normal, had taken the edge off his panic. He wouldn’t be here forever. If he couldn’t escape, and there was probably some way for him to, Gwen and Grandpa Max would come barreling to help him. Grandpa was a plumber, he must know some aliens who had spaceships or something. Ben put a hand up to his throat and felt the circlet there; still warm and yet metallic. He ran his thumb along its smooth surface. 

_And there must be some way to get this off,_ he thought.

What time was it? 

Ben realized he was tired, so tired that his eyes felt dry and heavy. There were no clocks in the room, and the one thing the omnitrix couldn’t do was tell time. It had been early afternoon when Vilgax had arrived, but Ben didn’t know how long he had been in this room sitting here and freaking out. It must at least be evening by now. It didn’t really matter. Like eating, resting was probably the smartest thing he could do right now. Tomorrow he would figure some way out of this. 

Remembering the washroom he had discovered during his earlier search, Ben crossed to the back of his cell and opened the door. He used the toilet, which functioned just like the ones on Earth, then washed at the sink. There was a plastic wrapped toothbrush and an unopened tube of toothpaste on the counter beside the sink, but Ben ignored them and merely rinsed his mouth out with water from the tap, splashing some on his face as he did so. The water was as clean as the water that he been delivered to him at dinner, lacking only the hint of strawberries, and he drank some as well. 

Ben wasn’t sure why he didn’t want to unwrap the toothbrush, only that using it would feel too much like he was going to be staying here for a while, and that wasn’t a thought that he wanted to entertain. 

As he exited the bathroom, Ben was struck again by the barrenness of his cell. He crossed to the bed against the wall and noticed for the first time that there was a small shelf in the wall underneath the bed. The shelf contained a set of light blue pajamas that looked disturbingly close to his size. Like the toothbrush, the pajamas seemed much too permanent to use, as well as adding an extra layer of creepy, which really wasn’t necessary, and Ben pointedly ignored them, kicked off his shoes and lay down on the bed. There were blankets folded on the bed’s foot, but it was warm in the room. 

Ben lay on his back, hands behind his head, and stared at the ceiling, far above him.

 _I’m never getting to sleep,_ he thought. Though he was tired, his mind was still working, darting from thought to thought and turning the day’s events around and around. He drew in a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. 

He didn’t notice at first, but the edges of the room started to fade as the light gently began to dim. The light seemed to come from the small space at the top of the room where the walls met the ceiling. Was someone outside watching him and dimming the lights, or did the room itself know that he was trying to fall asleep. He thought about getting up and seeing whether the lights would come back on, but he was so tired now that he couldn’t be bothered to move. 

For the first time, the thought that his food might have been drugged came floating into his mind like a dark cloud. Idiot! He could have at least tried some and waited before eating the rest.

But even as he had the thought it drifted away from him again, out into the now completely darkened room and Ben found himself drifting away after it. Whether because of drugged food, or merely because he was exhausted from panic and from this very long day, Ben was asleep.

This chapter gave me a lot of trouble. I had to be Vilgax again, and again I had to watch out how much I gave away, which is really difficult! I also had trouble with Ben in this chapter. Poor guy’s going through a lot. He’s usually so happy-go-lucky in the show, and I want to keep him realistic and in character while realizing that he must be freaking out a little at this point.   
Hope it came out alright in the end.  
I got some ideas for the food in this chapter from Allen Dean Foster’s excellent Lost and Found trilogy.


	6. Day Two

Shades Of Self chapter 6  
Disclaimer: No, no, absolutely not.

“Though she may be your enemy, do not let that fact blind you to what she is; a sister.”  
\- Nameless Mier-Ta priestess

Four Years Ago

Ben jolted awake. He couldn’t remember what his dream had been about, and knew only that his heart was racing and the muscles in his legs were tingling as if he had been running. He had a blank moment where he looked up at a ceiling which was too gray and much too high, and then the proceeding day came rushing back. Warily, he put his hand up and felt the unfamiliar metal encircling his neck.

Still here.

He sat up on the bed rather quickly and ran a hand through his hair. It wasn’t like him to just sit here and wait for things to happen. It was pretty clear by now that _that_ strategy wasn’t working very well. There had to be a way to get this thing off, or at least a way to fight its influence somehow. Maybe Grandpa and Gwen would come to his rescue, and maybe they wouldn’t. He couldn’t just sit here depending on them and doing nothing. 

Throwing back the covers, Ben hopped down off of the bed. He paused suddenly. Had he used the covers last night? He didn’t remember covering himself, but there they lay, crumpled up at the foot of the bed. Then again, he had been pretty out of it when he went to bed. He must have used them and forgotten. 

Dismissing the question from his mind, Ben hunted down his shoes and slipped them on. When he finished he glanced towards the door and saw that _someone_ must have been there while he was asleep. The metal casserole-thing from last night had been removed, and another one was sitting in its place. He would have thought that it was the same one, except it was a different colour; a sort of copper. Ben looked at it, but wasn’t quite ready to try eating whatever it contained. He didn’t know how long he’d be left alone in here. At least, he couldn’t imagine that Vilgax would just stick him in this room and feed him forever. He had to try getting out while he had the time.

He walked to the door. He hadn’t done this before. He’d entertained the notion briefly, but the feeling that it was physically incapable of him to walk through it had been too strange. But now he had to try something. In any case, he made it to the door. It was an unpleasant feeling, being so near to something impossible. He felt like he was approaching a dangerous precipice. He put his hand on the handle. He wondered whether it was locked.

 _If it isn’t, I’m just going to open it and look out,_ he thought. He felt that he had to justify his actions to himself. The door handle was long and slightly thick for his hand. It had a raised section that felt like rubber. You were supposed to twist that to open the door. He twisted it the way he had seen the robots do. It turned. He pushed on the door with both hands. It was heavy, but slid smoothly, sideways so that it slid into the right hand wall, and he had no trouble pushing it halfway open. 

Well, it was open.

And he couldn’t walk through it.

He couldn’t so much as put one foot out into the corridor outside. 

For a moment he stood dumbly on the threshold, and then he turned and abruptly slammed the door shut again.

The least Vilgax could have done was to lock it. Then he would at any rate have been spared that awful feeling. There was no way to work against the influence, because it wasn’t influence. It was like everything the maniac ordered him to do instantly became a fundamental law of the universe.

Ben found that he was breathing heavily, and his chest felt hot and tight. He swallowed hard and stared fixedly at the high, gray ceiling for a moment.

So that wasn’t going to work. The only other thing he could think of was to get the collar off. Even if he did figure out what Vilgax was up to, it wouldn’t help him while this thing was on. Absently, he put one hand up and closed his fingers around the metal band. It seemed pretty sturdy, and he had a feeling his neck would give out before he could break it. He would have to find something to cut or file it. _Too bad I can’t have Gwen mail me a saw inside a cake._ He almost chuckled. Sort of.

What did he have to work with? Well, it would have to be things that he could find in this room, since…it would have to be things that he could find in this room. And the bathroom, he remembered. And there wasn’t a lot in either room. He decided to take inventory. 

His ‘bedroom’ was pretty bare. First, there was the bed. This seemed to be built directly into the wall of the room. Look as he might, Ben couldn’t find any loose parts that he could pull off of the bed to use for anything. It was just a hunk of metal with a mattress on top. The room had a very high ceiling from Ben’s perspective, though he remembered that Vilgax had only had a foot or two of clearance for his head. There were definitely some kind of lights running around the edges of the ceiling, but there was no way for him to get close enough to examine them, and he couldn’t use the omnitrix to get near them anyway. He didn’t even try climbing up on the bed; it wasn’t nearly high enough. There were no decorations on the walls or floor as he had previously noticed, and the shelf under the bed contained only the folded pajamas. The bathroom was equally disappointing. He even examined the toilet paper holder for movable parts, but some jerk had built it like a weird metal box with the toilet paper in the middle, and it was just as attached to the wall as the bed had been. The only remotely promising things he could find were the door handles. If he could figure out a way to detach them they might be useful. They didn’t look very sharp, but he didn’t have a lot of options at this point.

By now he was feeling quite hungry, but he was also painfully aware of the passing time. He didn’t have a way to tell time, but it couldn’t be too much longer until Vilgax came to do something worse to him, so he got to work on the door handles. He tackled the one on the bathroom door first. Once again, it seemed to be soldered invisibly into the metal of the door, but it was his best option, so he braced himself against the door and started pulling. It hurt his hands, but he tugged and twisted, jerking his hands back and forth on the metal, trying to find some way to make it give. He wished he had four arms’ strength, or even Gwen’s strength. He wished this stupid handle would budge. The joints of his hands were sore and the skin was rubbed and red, but he felt the panic trickle through his chest and he kept pulling.

The handle was a thin piece of metal, and it might have budged eventually, but Ben had been correct; he didn’t have a lot of time.

The door slid open behind him, and Ben stopped pulling on the door handle. Vilgax was back.

As before, the alien’s presence made the room feel very small. Ben clenched his hands, feeling the skin pull painfully.

The alien’s face was expressionless, but several tentacles writhed, (in anger?), and then were still. Ben glared back defiantly. He was a bit worked up to think of pretending not to be trying something, even if it wasn’t obvious that he was. Vilgax’s eyes flicked to Ben’s clenched hands, but then he turned away.

“Follow me boy,” Vilgax ordered, and then he walked down the corridor without looking behind him.

 _No reason for the robots anymore I guess,_ Ben thought as he followed obediently. He walked through the door, the door he had desperately tried to step through not fifteen minutes before, and he found himself wishing his steps were as hesitant as he felt. There was no prohibition on him now to prevent him from speaking, but there was nothing he could say to the inscrutable creature in front of him. All he could do now was pretend he didn’t feel the cold snake of fear coiling through his gut. He put one hand up to his neck as he walked, and absently ran a finger along the smooth metal, and allowed himself to continue musing over ways to get it off.

Day two.

Vilgax glanced back at the young human trailing behind him. He was small and thin, even for his young age. His head twisted from side to side, eyes flickering about him as though memorizing their rout. Tennyson’s grandson. Tennyson had always been a kiertosh in Vilgax’s engine. He hated the meddling human; had contemplated the pleasure inherent in crushing the life from the old man’s body and watching as the light faded from his eyes. 

But the old man was merely an annoyance; a dangerous annoyance, but one that would be dealt with in time. Tennyson was an annoyance, but Ben was a prize. 

Back when he first discovered the boy’s possession of the omnitrix, Vilgax had thought of nothing but how he could destroy the human and gain control of the artifact. Ben’s consistent success in their battles had infuriated him. Now it was not merely a human who was thwarting him, but a child, and Tennyson’s relation to drive the grav-torch in even deeper. And this child had almost killed him in their first battle. In fact, had it not been for Trisaara, Vilgax’s first mate, the warlord would have escaped with his life and nothing else. It was Trisaara who had helped many of the crew to escape from the failing ship, and it was she who had retrieved the information from the main lab. That information had felt like a curse when Vilgax had examined it, but never doing so would have been much worse.

Looking back at Ben now, Vilgax felt a tentacle twitch at the human’s attempt to hide his fear. He could practically see the emotion emanating from the boy. The unknown was often the most frightening, and Ben was behaving very well considering. Still, to Vilgax’s eyes, the boy looked incredibly vulnerable. Vilgax could order him to do anything and he knew it though, the warlord thought, he likely hadn’t yet realized all of the implications of that yet. And when the boy was his enemy, it was easy for Vilgax to forget just how young he really was. His ingenuity, his cockiness and seeming invincibility made him seem much older, but he really was merely a child; a very young, very frightened child who wanted to be anywhere else but here.

They rounded a corridor, and Vilgax stopped in front of the door to the infirmary. He touched a panel on the wall with one claw, and watched the door slide open in response. Of course, most of what he had planned for the boy needed to wait until they reached Crito-Ah, the nearest of Vilgax’s planets, but he needed to enter Ben’s physical statistics into the medical computers and make sure the boy was healthy. If he had any dormant illnesses Vilgax needed to know.

He had originally planned to leave the boy alone in his room for a while longer, but had decided against it when he saw Ben’s attempts to loosen the door handle. He was getting panicky, the damage to his hands was evidence enough of that, and Vilgax did not want him to harm himself in his fear. Better to give him something else to think about. Of course, he could simply order the boy not to hurt himself, but that would merely have the effect of increasing his inner panic without giving him an outlet for it. It made sense to give him freedom as far as he could.

Ben had been trying to memorize their rout through the ship. He wanted to know as much as he could about the ship’s layout in case he did manage to escape and had to navigate the corridors. In spite of his situation, he found himself calming slightly as they walked. At least something was happening. At the same time, he tried to ignore the knowledge that he couldn’t stop walking, or even try to. It was difficult, and rather like trying not to think about the word hippopotamus. 

Vilgax stopped, so Ben did too.

They were in front of a large door, though this description seemed rather redundant at this point. The ship was obviously built to accommodate Vilgax’s stature, and Ben had yet to see a room, corridor or door that was not large.

Vilgax touched something on the wall, and the door slid smoothly open to reveal a (large) room with light gray walls that looked impossibly clean. The light in this room was brighter than Ben had seen in the rest of the ship, and as they walked inside Ben wrinkled his nose, smelling a faint scent something like disinfectant. 

There was a tall, thin alien seated at a beige desk that looked like it was made out of spongy stone. The alien had very large eyes that stretched around the sides of its head. Thin gray tentacles sprouted from the dark brown skin of its head and down its back. These were kept out of its face by what looked like black barrettes. It had a very small mouth, no nose that Ben could see, and a pronounced chin. It wore a light gray smock of some kind that began just below its long, slender neck and presumably extended down its body, although Ben couldn’t see anything behind the desk. Its lower body and feet were likewise hidden from view. Behind the alien, Ben could see several white table-shaped protrusions emerging from the floor, and behind them the wall seemed to be lined with what looked like huge fish tanks of different shapes and sizes. Behind the tanks, the room twisted and seemed to continue, although he could see no more of it.

When they entered, the alien looked up from the data pad it seemed to be reading, and made a noise like about twenty crickets chirping at once. It then rose and inclined its head gracefully. 

“What may I do for you Lord?” it asked. Its voice was high and sweet, and also seemed to carry a trill just below the surface. 

“You will record this human’s biorhythms, Miertoh, and check him for illness,” Vilgax answered. His voice, always raspy, seemed even harsher after the musical speech of the new alien. The alien, (Miertoh?), rose from its seat and gave Ben a once-over with its large eyes. 

“Human?” it inquired.

Vilgax didn’t say anything in answer, but one of his tentacles twitched to the side. 

“Very well,” Miertoh said. “You can leave him with me if you like.”

“I will wait,” Vilgax said.

“Very well,” Miertoh said again. It blinked, and Ben saw two sets of eyelids, an inner and an outer one, slide closed and then open again. He looked away, feeling self-conscious. And what exactly did ‘record his biorhythms’ mean? Once again, he was in a position where he would simply have to wait and find out.

The tests did not take long. He stood in an oddly shaped alcove while different coloured lights ran over his body for several minutes, and that was it. If Vilgax hadn’t been there, Ben would have tried to talk to Miertoh, than maybe he could have found out something useful, or at least talk to someone. Maybe that was why Vilgax insisted on staying. Was he afraid that Ben might find a way out after all?

As they left the room, Ben glanced back at Miertoh, but the alien was studying its data pad and didn’t seem to notice him. 

They walked back the same way. Didn’t Vilgax have more important things to do than take Ben to a doctor’s office? Didn’t he have a ship to run or some planet to subjugate or something? Couldn’t he have just ordered Ben to go to Miertoh’s office and not cause any trouble or something? He certainly wasn’t here to provide company. All through the journey, Vilgax was silent. The silence felt slightly oppressive by now, and Ben was almost tempted to start asking some of his questions to break the silence, little as he expected answers.

They halted in front of Ben’s cell. _Guess that’s it for the tour,_ Ben thought wryly.

To his surprise, Vilgax did not merely order him into the cell and then leave. Instead, he seemed to be studying the young human where he stood by the door.

“Uh, what are you looking at me for?” Ben asked uncomfortably. 

In response, Vilgax’s eyes narrowed and he turned away slightly, tentacles twitching.

“Go into your room and remain there child,” he ordered.

“Glad we had this chance to talk.” Ben walked through the door, but he couldn’t stop the snide remark. At least it made him feel a little better, though Vilgax didn’t even appear to notice it.

The door slid closed, hiding the alien from view, and Ben was alone again. He crossed his arms and glared at the empty cell. He noticed the food container on the floor, but his hunger had receded somewhat, and the idea of digging through the container to see what it contained was not an attractive one. He put a hand up to his neck again and wrapped his hand around the collar, pulling it as far away from his neck as it would go, and then let his hand fall back to his side.

Thanks for reading gang! Next chapter should bring some more Vilgax narration, and solve some more mysteries.  
See you all soon.


	7. Musings

Shades Of Self chapter 7  
Disclaimer: I don’t own Ben 10. Ben is probably pretty glad of that right about now.  
It’s going to be a while before we see Gwen and Max again, because I want to explore what happened to Ben before we go back there, so bear with me. And do enjoy Ben’s story, because he certainly isn’t. ;)  
Written to Breaking Benjamin, though I only just realized how funny that is now. And now I have to go laugh. Excuse me.

“Your home will always remain, no matter where your travels take you. So when you watch the light-years fall beneath your feet, remember your home, even if you never return.”  
\- Ceremonial words said at every Nesdreth’s coming of age.

Four Years Ago

Insolent. Ben was so insolent. It used to infuriate Vilgax. Well, it still irritated him. The human knew how to get under his skin. The child’s casual tone, almost innocent, always seemed a personal insult. It was as though he were disregarding the seriousness of the situation. It felt like he was being disrespected, and Vilgax could never tolerate disrespect.   
However, now there was a difference. 

It was strange to think that his enemy was here, on his ship; in his power. He had chased the child for so long, and had believed that the only way it would ever end was when one of them died. But Ben’s death, he had discovered, would only mean that he, Vilgax, would have lost and Asmuth, the old fool, would have won after all.

Vilgax opened the door to his private room. He walked inside and closed the door, inhaling deeply of the moist air. Even through his mask, the air smelled fresher than what pumped through the rest of his ship. His skin felt cleaner, always, in his personal apartments. Perhaps he should go to the infirmary and ask what his Miertoh had found out about Ben. There were also several small matters around the ship that he should see to, but first, Vilgax felt that he needed a moment alone. They were still a few days away from Crito-Ah, and until they arrived, Vilgax wasn’t certain how much he should tell his captive. He had intended to say nothing, but he had not anticipated how quickly Ben would deteriorate with nothing to do in his small room. He had nothing to do but think, and his thoughts would not be pleasant.

Would it be better to tell Ben something of why he was here, or to say nothing? Would telling him only increase his anxiety? The truth was that Vilgax had very little experience in this kind of endeavor. He ruled on Xentrex because he was the strongest and the best suited to the position of Warlord. He was ruthless when he needed to be and a skilled tactician, but this was a delicate operation and he had no one to advise him on it. Perhaps he should improvise some training for the remaining three days. If nothing else, it would give Ben something else to think about, and it might even set a precedent for the rest of the training.

His tentacles flexed in decision. Yes, that was what he would do. But first he would relax for a few minutes. The Warlord of Xentrex could afford that much. After that, he would visit Ben once again.

Atron placed the tray of samples back in its case and closed the lid. He always kept everything in his infirmary in perfect order. It was a comfort to him, out here on a ship hurtling through deep space, that he always knew exactly where to find his medical data records, and that the antibacterial patches were kept in the bottom left cupboard, below the scanner and bandages. Anything could happen in space, but no matter what happened, Atron was ready for it within these clean, ordered rooms. All of the medics under him had quickly learned that if you misfiled a report or failed to properly store even one kriisto-jumper, you would be let off without pay on the next available planet, no matter how hospitable.

Atron Vamis had been Miertoh on the _Antarasin_ for eight standard years. Some would say, and Atron would agree, that Miertoh was one of the most important posts on a ship that was intended for deep space travel. The engineers and pilots were naturally important to keep the ship smoothly functioning in the absence of any repair stations, and it was the Miertoh’s duty to provide the same service to the ship’s crew, passengers and even the warlord himself. Atron had been trained extensively in the best facility in the known galaxy and he had been the top of his class.

This, of course, was the reason he was here. Vilgax sought out the best, always, and Atron could say with certainty that he was one of the very best in his profession.

And after so long on the _Antarasin_ , Atron had become intimately familiar with the vessel and most of its crew. Yet, still he knew very little about the warlord. Vilgax was very private, and he shared only as much of his plans with the crew as they needed to know. Atron did not require knowledge of battle operations, save how many new patients he would have and how many repairs were required. Many beings would open up to a medic, finding it a distraction from the pain of their wounds or the fear they sometimes felt. Vilgax was not one of these beings. He relied on his crew as on no other beings, but he was close to no one. In all his time as the _Antarasin_ ’s Miertoh, Atron had never seen Vilgax open up to anyone. 

Atron crossed back to his desk and picked up the data pad lying on its top, gently tapping its screen with one slender finger and bringing the screen to life. This was his private data pad and, in addition to his personal medical resources, it held one of his few indulgences. As he accessed the correct section, Atron’s thoughts flickered back to the young human Vilgax had brought to see him. He had never treated a human before, but he naturally had some knowledge of the species, and the human he had seen today was very young; pre-puberty. Atron was not privy to the Warlord’s activities, but it had been obvious from the human’s posture and facial expressions that he was here against his will. Atron was not particularly naïve and he knew that this was a war, but on Slarssara children this human’s age were protected and taught by the entire Slarssan society. To even think of one being willfully harmed was painful. It was…jarring. 

Atron was not naïve. He knew that this child would be lucky if Vilgax merely killed him.

The Miertoh sighed and dismissed the thoughts from his mind. This was _rheesa va sairness_ (1), as his old guild-mistress would say. Selecting the file he wanted, Atron leant back slightly in his chair and closed his eyes as the euphonious strains slid over him like a sun-touched breeze back on Slarssara. His head swayed slightly at the end of his long neck as though it were caught in a gentle underwater current and he felt himself slipping away from this room and this life and into the ever-changing landscape the music was constructing for him. How could he ever feel separated from home when he could simply reach out and touch its most exquisite creation? He relaxed and let the music carry him home, far across the stars.

Ben was hungry. He was hungry, but he didn’t want to eat. Although, he reflected, it would be easier to ignore his hunger if there was literally anything else to do in this stupid room. He hadn’t touched the cover on the copper coloured dish, but he couldn’t help casting it a glance every now and then.

It had been several hours, probably, since Vilgax had left him alone once again in the cell, and Ben was fighting a serious case of boredom. Never having been captured and left by himself for this long before, Ben had had no experience in how boring captivity could be. Frightening, yes. Filled with desperate escape plans, yes. Boring, no. He remembered the time he had gone to the Millbrook City Zoo on a school trip. He had been disappointed that most of the animals, particularly the big cats who should have been the most exciting thing he had ever seen, had simply been lying around in the sun as if they could barely summon enough energy to yawn.

That’s what he felt like right now; a prisoner with no way to escape, and too bored to keep trying. 

At first, he hadn’t even been hungry.

When Vilgax had first returned him to his cell, Ben had felt no hunger, only a dead kind of desperation; a quiet but persistent tight feeling in his chest. He was starting to really hate this room. He had first thought about trying to pry the door handle off again, but the ache in his hands had given him pause. He had hurt them without even really noticing. He examined the handle he had been working on, and saw that it was only slightly loose, if that. There seemed to be a little more give in its movements when he wiggled it back and forth, but that might only be his imagination. He didn’t start to feel the hunger until the boredom set in.

His stomach rumbled as though on cue, and Ben exhaled, annoyed. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t want to eat. Aside from the fact that his meal yesterday might have been drugged, which he wasn’t certain of, he didn’t really have a reason to avoid the almost-food provided for him. And since he hadn’t even lifted the cover of the latest offering, he had no idea what Vilgax had given him for ‘breakfast.’ Probably not eggs and bacon, but it likely wouldn’t be worse than last night’s meal. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to eat it.   
He tilted his head back slowly, took in the high, bare expanse of the ceiling. He supposed, in the end, that he just didn’t want to eat because that was what Vilgax wanted him to do. It was something he could choose not to do, despite his overbearing captor. Wow, that reason sounded…a little stupid when he voiced it to himself. He shoved it away angrily. He could always decide to eat in a little while. The food would still be here after all. 

And so would he.

What time would it be back on Earth?

Ben leant back against same wall he had leant against several times today. He tilted his head backward and looked up at the ceiling. 

Of course, he didn’t even know what time it was here, but he felt like it was at least noon. If it was the same time on Earth, then he had been gone for almost a whole day. His parents must be frantic. Come to think of it, half the town had seen Vilgax capture him and drag him off in his stupid red and black space ship, so they would have been frantic right off the bat. What had Grandpa Max told them? Or had he told them anything? There was nothing he could say that would be likely to reassure them. ‘Of course Ben fights aliens; he’s been doing it all summer. The one who captured him is called Vilgax and he just wants to brutally cut Ben’s arm off to get the incredibly powerful alien device on his wrist.’ 

Ben let his head _thunk_ back against the wall. How would his parents react? His dad was always telling him to take responsibility, but he probably meant something more along the lines of mowing the lawn or cleaning up his room. And his mom had told him several times to make more friends, meet new people and go places, but she probably didn’t mean anything like this either. What would they think? What were they thinking right now?

They wouldn’t think that he was…

No. He shook the thought away. Grandpa Max would reassure them, somehow. And then he and Gwen would come after him. 

How far away from Earth had Vilgax traveled? He assumed they were traveling anyway. He couldn’t feel anything, but presumably Vilgax lived on some alien planet when he wasn’t just creepily orbiting Earth. 

Ben’s legs were getting tired, but he didn’t want to sit down again, so he paced instead. Back and forth from the wall to the door to the bed to the bathroom and back again. He was thirsty as well as hungry, so he went into the washroom and drank from the sink. The water still tasted just as sweet and he took a long drink. Afterward, his stomach felt almost bloated, but still empty. He probably wouldn’t feel this hungry if the food wasn’t just sitting there staring at him. He wished there was a garbage can he could stuff it into.

A noise outside the door caught his attention. Who would it be this time, drones with more food or his apparently very attentive captor? Ben closed the bathroom door and stood waiting with his arms crossed. He knew he couldn’t do anything to whoever came in, but it never hurt to pretend.

The door slid open, revealing Ben’s least favorite person. Great. Did Vilgax have absolutely nothing else to do on this ship, or had he actually missed him? The alien’s face was expressionless as usual, but he somehow gave the impression of being angry. The tentacles around his face twitched now and then, almost like a nervous tick. Despite himself, Ben took a step back, hands falling to his sides. Vilgax looked…really scary. Vilgax drew himself up and stared at the human through eyes that seemed more like slits of fire.  
“What are you playing at child?” Vilgax asked in a voice like distant thunder.

“Um…nothing at the moment.” Ben replied uncertainly. What was Vilgax talking about? Ben hadn’t been doing anything. He was physically prevented from doing anything because of this stupid collar. All he was doing was sitting here wishing he could do something. At this thought Ben straightened up slightly. “Take this thing off me,” he said quietly. “And then you can see me play.” 

Vilgax made a sound that was somewhere between a growl and snort, but he seemed merely annoyed now rather than furious, and his tentacles ceased their twitching.  
“You need nourishment” he said, back in the familiar rasping growl. The alien glanced meaningfully down at the untouched dish. “Eat. Or must I command you to do that as well?”

He left the room without another word and without waiting for a response, closing the impregnable door behind him. Ben stared after him. For a moment, he had thought that Vilgax could not make him feel any more helpless than he already did. 

“You were wrong though, weren’t you?” he said to no one. Then, slowly, he crossed to where the copper container still lay and lifted the lid.

(1) Something that I cannot alter (The implication is that it should therefore not worry me).

Hope you enjoyed.  
I’ve been taking lots of liberties with Ben’s universe, as you’ve no doubt noticed. I changed the name of Vilgax’s home world because I didn’t like that it was named after him. Sorry if anyone’s annoyed at me for that one. You’ll hear more about the politics of Xentrex later in the story.  
I got my idea for the Miertoh treating both flesh and mechanical damages from Dust Traveler’s excellent Invader Zim fic “Going On”, in which medics both heal patients and repair and maintain machinery. And I think the point is equally valid when there are so many different life forms, many of whom are partly or wholly mechanical.   
And yes, I realize that there are different time zones on Earth, but these are Ben’s thoughts and by ‘Earth’, he really means ‘in Bellwood’.   
Once again, it’s Vilgax who’s causing me trouble. I hope his scene came out alright.   
See you next time!


	8. Hints

Shades Of Self chapter 8  
Disclaimer: Ben 10 does not belong to me. Sniff…

“All knowledge comes with a price.”  
\- Motto of the Nostian Monks of Briste

Four Years Ago

Ben set the copper lid on the metal floor with a soft, fractured clang. He paused for a moment to suck in a deep breath and hold it, crouched with the metal cold where he knelt on the floor. He wasn’t going to cry. He couldn’t let himself cry. He knew he was being observed. His encounter with Vilgax just now was ample proof of that. He wouldn’t let the alien know what he was feeling, even if Vilgax probably knew anyway.

He looked into the container and stared at the soft food lumps. They were different colours this time, and slightly different shapes, but they were similar enough. The last thing he wanted to do was eat them. Even his hunger had receded, leaving only a hollow, shuddery feeling deep inside him. But he knew that he was going to eat the food. He didn’t have a choice. 

His throat seemed to have closed in on itself, so Ben picked up the water cylinder and opened it. He took a small sip and swallowed. This water tasted faintly of lemon and it went down easily enough. He took another drink and swished it around his mouth before swallowing. It went down, but his throat still felt tight with unshed tears, leading to the hard knot that was his stomach. But he couldn’t linger over the water all day, or Vilgax might come back, so he hesitantly reached into the container again and picked up one of today’s selection of round spongy things. He took a bite and chewed slowly. This one tasted like a mix of boiled egg and sausage. The flavour wasn’t bad, though the texture ruined it somewhat, but it wouldn’t have mattered if it tasted like a turkey dinner. His throat didn’t want to swallow, and the mouthful of food seemed to scrape the sides as it went down. Ben took another bite.

Vilgax swept through the corridors of his ship. The crew, sensing his mood, stayed a respectful distance to the side as he passed. When he reached his rooms once again, Vilgax paused, allowing his tentacles to lash the air in anger. He inhaled deeply, forcing himself to calm. He touched the controls and the wall screen opened up. He opened the live feed and silently watched his young captive. Ben was eating now, although he looked as if every mouthful might choke him. His jaws moved reluctantly, as though chewing their way through rubber, and when he swallowed he seemed to work at it. His body was tense and his eyes were filled with pain. Vilgax knew he had shaken the human badly.

Perhaps he had been too harsh, but the boy’s refusal to eat had frightened him. It had only been chance that he had decided to go back through the video archives to see whether Ben had eaten his morning meal. Now he looked back on his fear and thought that he had jumped to conclusions too quickly. Ben was only a child after all, barely more than a hatchling. Vilgax was on edge because of Azmuth, but Ben would not attempt something so drastic. Likely this had merely been another form of defiance. 

Vilgax watched as Ben finished one of the items from his tray and picked up another one. He was eating more steadily now, but he looked just as shaken. Vilgax was glad that he had been able to convince Ben to eat without commanding him. And it proved that Ben was willing to obey him sometimes, if only because he hated the commands so much.

Vilgax knew that the collar would be pure torture for Ben. It was a prison for his mind, and nothing was worse than that. Vilgax had not intended it to be pleasant, but even he had been surprised to see how strongly it was affecting the young human. All the more reason to provide Ben with a distraction. He would have to push the training back a little, but he could still fit a short session in today. Ben would sleep better as a result. 

Vilgax dismissed the image with a word and turned away. He had some time now to find out the results of Ben’s tests. He hoped the human was healthy. Grask knew how Ben would react to medical treatment. 

The infirmary was quiet. One of the medics was replacing some medical supplies in their proper containers, indicating that at least one crewmember had recently visited, but there were no patients in site. Vilgax crossed the room with single-minded strides. The medic, a willowy Presseet named Nyaaks, inclined her head respectfully as he passed.

Atron was at the back of the infirmary, where the large main room divided and branched into several private alcoves. The Miertoh was standing by one of the tall cabinets in the back. He had lifted out several trays containing many small and delicate looking transparent bottles and appeared to be inspecting the liquids they contained for impurities. He carefully lifted each bottle to eye level and ran a small, handheld scanner over the outsides of each bottle. He then tilted each bottle slightly and gave it a moment of inspection with his large eyes. Vilgax was not surprised to find the Miertoh engaged thus; he worked almost constantly, leaving only a spare amount of time for sleep, food and his precious music. In fact, this zealousness was partly why Vilgax had chosen Atron for his Miertoh. The other reason was because Atron was a slarssan. Slarssara had been the second planet Vilgax had conquered, although conquered was perhaps not the most accurate word. The slarssans were very advanced and their technology was in perfect harmony with the natural areas of their planet. And they were pacifists and had been so for centuries. Vilgax knew something of their history from the archives in Varrmuuth, the planet’s historical capital. During the industrial age of the slarssans their planet had been wracked with civil wars which were fairly common on most planets. The difference was that the slarssans’ technology had been advancing much more quickly than their sensibilities. One of the more technologically advanced territories had conducted an offensive strike involving a weapon so devastating that the effects had never quite faded from the landscape or from the genetics of the victims. This weapon was known only as ‘The Intervention’ which Vilgax had found amusingly apt. The devastation and horror which had been unleashed shocked the whole planet and brought about a shuddering halt to the war. Treaties were signed and laws passed designed to prevent the disaster from ever happening again, and a cautious peace descended. However, many of those on Slarssara wondered whether this would be enough or whether greed or fear would eventually drive a nation to once again unleash the weapon, or something even more damaging, on the people of their world. Scientists across the world worked together for years to find the answer and when they discovered it, it was implemented in every nation on every citizen on the planet with almost universal agreement. Those who did not wish to comply were not forced but were instead sterilized so they could not breed, and thus was a permanent peace established. 

Vilgax did not know exactly what genetics had been tampered with or how and it did not matter to him. The results were before him, even centuries later. Even Vilgax needed a medic, and even he was vulnerable while being treated. That was the most important reason that Atron was here. In addition to violence, betrayal was something simply not known on Slarssara and Vilgax knew that Atron would never betray him.

As Vilgax approached, Atron paused in his inspection and uttered a soft, sweet trill, indicating that he had noticed his master but required a moment before addressing him. He carefully replaced the fragile bottle he was holding in its appropriate tray and then turned and fixed his large, dark eyes on Vilgax. 

“Good day to you, lord. How may I be of service?” he always addressed Vilgax this way. Vilgax’s title was ‘warlord’ but Atron could never bear to use it. War was abhorrent to him, and though he served Vilgax faithfully as a medic and knew that Vilgax was fighting a war, he would not speak of it. For his part, Vilgax allowed the lapse. War was an essential part of his culture and he found it amusing the extent to which a slarssan could delude himself. Still, if that was the price he paid to have Atron on his ship he would gladly pay it.  
Vilgax flicked a tentacle in acknowledgment of Atron’s greeting, but did not return it. He was never one for pleasantries.

“What do your tests say about the human?” he asked.

The Miertoh blinked his inner eyelids, slightly wary. He did not seem to enjoy the task he had been given. “He is perfectly healthy aside from the large quantity of sugar, salt and fat he has been ingesting recently, which I believe is the normal diet for wealthy humans.” 

Vilgax flicked another tentacle, in agreement this time, and took the chart that Atron held out to him, glancing over it as he did so. The recommendation at the bottom stopped him and he looked back at his Miertoh. “What is this?” he asked gruffly. Why are you advising these vaccines?”

Atron blinked again. “You are taking him to Crito-Ah, correct?” he said, and at Vilgax’s sign of agreement, “That planet contains many mammalian species which may be close enough to him genetically to pass disease. It would be safest to have him vaccinated if we will be spending some time there.”

Vilgax rippled his tentacles, annoyed. “Very well. How long will it take you to modify your vaccines for him?”

“I am already working on that,” Atron said, not without some satisfaction. They should be ready by tomorrow morning.”

Vilgax’s tentacles tapped thoughtfully. “Alright,” he agreed. “I will bring him down then.” He gestured towards the trays of uninspected bottles. “You may continue, Miertoh.” 

“Thank you Lord.” Atron inclined his head respectfully once more and turned back to his beloved medical supplies. Vilgax also turned away and as he strode away from the silent infirmary his tentacles twitched in annoyance. He was not looking forward to Ben’s reaction tomorrow. Even when the human was so thoroughly trapped, he continued to be an aggravation. 

When his door slid open again, Ben was ready. At least, he was ready for something to happen. After choking down the last of the food, Ben had tidied up the dishes as before, and then made a trip to the washroom. He had used the toilet, washed and then dragged his wet hands over his face. He thought it would help the tight, dry feeling of his eyes, and it seemed to have relieved the feeling a little. 

But then there was nothing else to do, and once again Ben found himself possessed by that state he had recently discovered which was part fear and part boredom. Once again, there was nothing to do but think.

So perhaps he was almost relieved when his solitude was interrupted by that familiar, looming presence. 

Vilgax was no longer angry, at least so far as Ben could tell. What one could see of his face around the breath mask he always wore was unreadable, but his tentacles lay placidly limp like the wet tights draped over Ben’s mother’s bathroom railing at home. Vilgax glanced around the cell, taking in the tidied dishes, the neatly made bed and Ben; the room’s lone ornament.

“Follow me boy,” Vilgax ordered, but Ben did not move. It came as rather a shock. He had been expecting an inexorable command, and he almost took a step forward before he realized that nothing was compelling him. He stared at Vilgax. The alien did not look surprised and he did not speak. He was waiting. The implication was obvious; Ben could obey, or he could refuse and be forced to obey anyway. Ben hesitated a moment, and then his chin came up as the challenge entered his eyes.  
Vilgax’s eyes narrowed and several tentacles lashed briefly. Then he turned away. “Come,” he said, and Ben came.

They took a different route this time, at least so far as Ben could tell from the repetitive gray metal hallways. He wondered how Vilgax knew which way to go. Maybe he had a map etched into his brain. Vilgax walked ahead once more with Ben trailing behind him, walking quickly to keep up with the alien’s long strides. Had it been worth it? Ben hated this collar with a hatred so strong it made him feel sick. He hated how Vilgax’s commands instantly robbed him of his free will. He hated knowing the impossibility of disobedience and he hated how he must look to the crewmembers they passed; like Vilgax’s puppy probably. And yet he was still glad that he had behaved as he had back in the cell. What was the point of free will if he was just going to obey anyway? And it seemed to have annoyed Vilgax at least. It seemed as though Vilgax had been expecting him to obey and if the writhing tentacles were any indication Vilgax had not been pleased when Ben refused. Ben didn’t know why Vilgax would care, or why the alien had even put the aggravating piece of metal on him in the first place if he was just going to try to get Ben to obey him without it, but seeing that reaction had been gratifying. That seemed to be what it had come down to; what could he do to push Vilgax’s buttons. Not to say that he had given up all hope of escape or rescue, but he had no plans at the moment, and this was something he could do to resist as much as possible. He would probably pay for it, but just surrendering was worse. 

They had been walking through identical corridors, but now Vilgax entered a comparatively small, circular room and Ben followed, feeling slightly apprehensive. As they passed through the door it slid shut behind them and the gray floor began to glow with a soft white light. A glittering array of lights flickered to life, hovering beside one of the walls and Vilgax moved one claw into the radiance, touching four of the glowing symbols in quick succession. Ben braced himself for whatever might be happening. He heard a low hum and then nothing. Ben looked quickly at Vilgax and caught the alien watching him inscrutably. He had no idea what Vilgax was thinking, but he felt a cold chill run down his spine. The door slid open again and Vilgax walked through it. As he followed, Ben did a double take and would have halted in surprise if he could have. This was a different corridor. It was wider and the usual boring gray was accented by a lighter gray stripe which ran along both walls as far as he could see. He supposed that room must be what passed for an elevator in this ship. They walked down the new corridor for a few minutes and then Vilgax halted before a wide door which slid smoothly open at his touch.

The new room was larger than any room Ben had yet seen on the ship with the exception of the cargo bay they had arrived in. It was about as large as the gym at his school, at least before a pack of explosives-happy robots had blasted a great big hole in the wall. The room was rectangular with a high ceiling and was completely empty. The only indicator that the room was even used for something was the assortment of faded scuff and scorch marks that adorned the walls and floor. The site reminded Ben uncomfortably of something but he couldn’t put his finger on what. Then he remembered the bloodthirsty roar of the crowd and the smell of burning metal. The only thing missing was the gallery where the spectators stood. It was an arena.

Ben glanced at Vilgax quickly and caught the alien looking back at him out of inscrutable red eyes. The tips of his tentacles shifted and Ben looked away, letting his eyes rove over a long, wicked looking scorch mark by his left foot. Was this what Vilgax had been waiting for? Had he just been waiting, making sure Ben ate and slept so he would be fresh for some kind of gladiatorial tournament? More importantly, Ben couldn’t decide if that realization made him feel frightened or relieved. He heard movement, Vilgax wasn’t exactly stealthy, and looked up to see that his captor had crossed to the wall at the right of the doorway. Vilgax touched a panel on the wall and the door, which had been open, slid smoothly closed.

“Manual” Vilgax said, seemingly to the wall rather than to Ben. It seemed an age since either of them had spoken, and his harsh voice sounded harsher and louder than usual in the empty room. In response, a piece of the wall detached itself and floated into his outstretched hand. Ben stared, impressed despite his situation. One side of the device was the same colour as the wall, a kind of slate gray. He couldn’t see the other side clearly, as it was held above his vision level, but it seemed to involve the same hovering, multicolored lights that he had noticed in the elevator. Vilgax delicately touched the lights one by one in some combination Ben couldn’t fathom, than he looked back at Ben who suddenly found he couldn’t stay silent.

“What do you want?” he asked, trying to keep the helplessness from his voice. 

Vilgax almost seemed to hesitate, but then he spoke. “You will train here every day. You will choose to train or you will be forced, but you will train.”

Ben glared at Vilgax, confused and frightened. _Well,_ he thought bitterly, _that was sort of like an answer. Maybe I should try for one and a half for two._

“Why am I training?” he asked. It was almost a demand really; he could hear it in his voice, and he knew even before he finished speaking that he wouldn’t be getting an answer.   
Vilgax’s eyes narrowed and he seemed to flick something on the device he held with one claw. A round circle in the floor opened up, the edges splitting and sliding smoothly into the sides. The hole was about the size of a small, circular room and it gaped like a surprised mouth. Through it rose a platform containing fifteen robots similar to those Ben had grown used to seeing, but bulkier. 

“So I guess that means you’re not going to answer me,” Ben stated, more to himself than his captor. 

Vilgax’s tentacles made that rippling motion again. “Morph,” he ordered, and the robots began to advance on Ben.

Ben swallowed the next remark he’d been about to say and took a step back, touching the button on the omnitrix and twisting it deftly. He didn’t wait for Vilgax to give him an inexorable command. He wasn’t sure why, though perhaps it was partly that he just really felt like hitting something right now. He slapped his palm down on the omnitrix and was blinded by the familiar flash of green light as he felt his body twist and contort. He landed on all fours and pounced on the nearest robot, sinking tough, sharp fangs into red metal and ripping. He didn’t stop to wonder why he had chosen Wildmut, but if he had, perhaps he would have thought again about those lions in the zoo. Then again, perhaps he wouldn’t have.

Hope you enjoyed.   
Yay, more about Atron! I’ve been having quite a brainstorm concerning the Slarssans and their planet. I know their culture, history and even what their cities and planet look like. I would love to draw some pictures of Atron and the planet if I could draw. I may eventually make an effort anyway. Unfortunately, I don’t think we’ll get to visit Slarssara in this story. There are too many beings around for Vilgax to bring Ben there, among other reasons. However, we will likely see more of them when I write my other Ben 10 story (featuring Ben and Reinrassic III chiefly). That won’t happen for a while, but it will happen.  
Thanks for reading!


	9. Medicine

Shades Of Self chapter 9  
Disclaimer: No.   
Without further ado, here is chapter nine. Enjoy!  
Written mostly to Within Temptation, Skillet and My Darkest Days.

“No matter how much knowledge you gain, you will always find yourself lacking.”  
\- Code of the New Crysitus Scientists

Four Years Ago

There was a dull clang as the last robot collapsed onto the ground. It was missing its head and its chest plates were bent and twisted. Ben spat the metal head onto the floor where it bounced once and spun slightly, dripping saliva. His gills flared as he took in the room and he turned to face the only creature besides himself who was still standing. Vilgax was watching him silently. 

Ben was tired. He could feel a bruise forming on his back despite Wildmut’s tough hide, and the metallic taste on his tongue made him think of blood, but he wasn’t ready to stop fighting yet. Being able to use the omnitrix again almost felt like a rush, filling him with adrenalin and the illusion of freedom. His gills fluttered again, testing the air for new targets and finding none. 

“That’s enough for now,” his captor growled, and Ben turned again, almost growling himself. He wanted to leap at Vilgax and was acutely aware of his inability to do so.

“Change back boy,” Vilgax ordered after a moment. It wasn’t a command, but Ben couldn’t have obeyed in any case. He would have rolled his eyes if he’d had any. He let out a sort of howling whine and shook his head. Vilgax’s tentacles lashed the air and then stilled. Ben thought he was beginning to figure them out. That meant Vilgax was angry. Ah, what insight he had gained.

“Stand still,” Vilgax said, and Ben shook his head again and backed up. Adrenalin was still pumping through his body, and since he wasn’t able to attack or escape, this was all he could do.

Not that it did any good. “Stand still”, Vilgax commanded, and Ben could hear the anger beneath the normally expressionless voice the way tension rippled through the clouds before the first flash of lightning. He froze helplessly as Vilgax approached and, crouching, touched the omnitrix symbol with a claw. He was blinded by the red flash and shrank back into himself. 

Vilgax did not look at him, but turned away, tentacles flexing. “Now come,” he said and Ben came.

It was night again, or at least so far as Ben could tell. He was back in his cell, back to counting the walls, and back to wishing he had a watch. 

At least he now felt slightly less like a balloon about to pop. It hadn’t really been very long since he had last used the omnitrix; not even two days, yet it seemed like much longer. He was used to using it all the time. Even when there were no enemies to fight, he usually found a reason to change, either to tease Gwen, escape some boring situation, or just for fun. Now he was locked in his own body as assuredly as he was trapped in this room, on this ship, and it was just as hard. Turning into Wildmut had been a relief, but it had been short, and now he was stuck as Ben Tennyson again.

He glanced down at the omnitrix. It was strange to see it on his wrist, glowing its normal gentle green, yet knowing that it was impossible for him to reach out and activate it. He put his right hand up gingerly to his collar and hooked his fingers around the warm metal. He had previously felt all along it without finding a single crack, control panel or clue he could use to get it off. Now he simply held it. It was light and the same temperature as his skin, and it would have been easy to forget that it was even there if his thoughts hadn’t kept bringing it back to his notice. He ran his thumb along the metal and then tugged at it so he could feel it pressing against the vertebrae of his neck. He didn’t pull at it with any hope that it would come loose, but simply because it felt less like he was just accepting it that way. He let the collar go after a moment and wiped his hand on his pants to get rid of the feeling of the metal.

He wondered whether it was bedtime yet. He didn’t want to go to bed, not being tired and still feeling a little stretched underneath his skin, but there was really nothing else to do, and at least if he slept he could stop glancing at the omnitrix where it sat, infuriatingly bare, on his wrist. 

Ben collapsed backwards onto the bed, on top of the neatly arranged covers. His mom always got annoyed when he did that. She said he left wrinkles.

At the thought it was as though a deep pit had opened in his stomach. He felt so helpless and trapped and the thing he wanted most at that minute was for his mom to be there. He wanted to feel her arms wrapped around him, and he wanted to let himself forget where he was, even for a moment. He stared up at the bare, grey ceiling and fought the tears that were building behind his eyes. He stretched his eyes as wide as possible, afraid to blink lest the tears escape. He could feel two of them forming in his eyes, ready to spill over and down his cheeks. He didn’t want Vilgax to see him cry, but he didn’t know how much longer he could hold out. He had to stay strong. He’d only been here two days. Gwen and Grandpa would come after him soon. He focussed his gaze on a patch of ceiling and concentrated on taking deep breaths until the tears receded. When it was safe again he sighed, relaxing. He supposed he should at least try to sleep. The lights were still on, but maybe they would go out if he closed his eyes.

Slowly Ben rolled onto his side and pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. His shoes were still on, and he rubbed one foot against the other until the shoe slipped off and fell to the floor, then hooked the toes of his sock-clad foot into the heal of his remaining shoe and pushed until it flopped off as well. Then he closed his eyes and hunched his shoulders. 

After a minute, Ben cracked one eye open and saw that the light had already begun to dim. At least one mystery had been solved. He closed the eye again and worked on breathing deeply. He could feel the tears threatening again. As he lay there in the growing dark, he couldn’t help wishing that he could go to sleep as easily as a light going out.

Ben didn’t remember dropping off, but he must have slept because he woke to what was presumably morning. He made this assumption based on the appearance of a new casserole dish, black this time, which was the first thing he noticed in the brightening light. He was stretched out a little more on the bed now, but the covers were still crumpled underneath him, so last time must have been his imagination. That was something of a relief. 

His eyes were gummy with sleep and he rubbed at them. Better. Of course, he was still here, still on this stupid ship with this stupid collar around his neck. He put his hand up to the smooth, metal circlet and ran his fingers along it. Part of him just wanted to see it. There was no mirror in his cell, and he had seen the collar only for a moment before Vilgax put it on him, and he hadn’t even known what it was back then. If he could see it, maybe he could find some clue about how to get it off. However, only part of him wanted to see it. The other part wanted to pretend it didn’t exist. 

Ben shook himself mentally and climbed off the bed. He went to the washroom and rubbed some cold water on his face as on the previous day. He was planning to inspect his breakfast next, but as he emerged from the washroom he was arrested by the sound of heavy footsteps outside his door, followed by the click of its handle. Ben could feel his shoulders tighten as his captor entered, filling the room. As usual, Ben resisted the urge to back up. However, there seemed to be something different about Vilgax. Whereas the previous night the alien had clearly been angry, which had resulted in another awful command, this morning he seemed almost wary. Ben couldn’t have said what gave him this feeling. There were certainly no indicators on what little he could see of the alien’s face. Perhaps the almost hesitant, less forceful way he moved or the slight shifting of his tentacles created the impression. Or maybe he was reading too much into it. 

Ben put his back up as Vilgax looked at him. He was fully prepared to continue his show of defiance from the night before, little as it had accomplished. At least this way he was doing something. Unfortunately, he wasn’t given the option. Perhaps Vilgax had seen Ben’s thoughts in his eyes. 

“Come,” he commanded, and Ben was reminded afresh of how awful that felt. It was like someone had wrapped his soul in chains and was trying to drag it through the flesh of his chest. Even as Vilgax stalked from the room and his own legs moved obediently to follow, the feeling seemed to flow up his throat and out of his mouth in a desperate cry.

“Wait!”

Vilgax halted and turned, red eyes narrowing as they regarded him, and Ben regretted the outburst. He swallowed the feeling of desperation again and forced as much calm into his voice as he could manage. “At least tell me where we’re going.” Was his voice still shaking?

Vilgax seemed about to ignore the question and continue walking, but instead he suddenly knelt so that his face was almost level with Ben. It was unexpected, and Ben took a nervous step back before the command halted his feet. 

“We are going to the infirmary,” Vilgax said, his burning gaze meeting Ben’s yellow-green one. “You require a vaccination.” He paused for a moment and the ends of several tentacles twitched. Ben flinched at the movement. “It will not hurt,” Vilgax added.

Ben found his voice. “A vaccination for what?” he asked. This was the most of a response he’d ever gotten from Vilgax, but he was disappointed if he expected more information. Vilgax simply rose, dismissing him and his question, and walked off again. Ben followed. 

At least he knew where they were going now, though he did not like the idea of an alien vaccine. He didn’t like injections on Earth, alien ones were frankly terrifying. But it was oddly a comfort just to know where he was being lead and why. He hated the way Vilgax just left him in his cell without telling him anything, and the only times he was allowed out were when he was shepherded from one unknown place or another. 

He glanced up at his captor’s back. Vilgax had said the vaccine wouldn’t hurt. Ben would have bristled at the words had he not been so terrified. Why had Vilgax said that? He’d never seemed to mind hurting Ben before. Heck, what did he think this collar was anyway, a fashion statement? Likely this was just another way Vilgax was messing with him. Ben concluded that Vilgax seriously needed a hobby. 

The grim grey hallways stretched on ahead of him, but despite his thoughts, Ben couldn’t help feeling better for knowing where they lead.

Well, here they were. Ben entered the infirmary several steps behind his captor, looking warily around at the familiar room. There was no one here today. The infirmary was empty, clean and gleaming from the touch of some zealous caretaker, or possibly maintenance robots. Ben wasn’t really sure whose job it was to clean the ship. Vilgax touched a softly glowing circle on the surface of the spongy beige desk Ben had seen previously, and there was a low hum like a distant swarm of bees. In response, part of one wall slid open, revealing a chamber beyond. The alien from Ben’s last ‘visit’ emerged from the second room, rubbing its long, spindly hands together as though cleansing them. 

“Greetings Lord,” it said in its sweet voice, inclining its head gracefully. In fact, every movement it made was graceful, even small things like the way it turned its head or the movement of its twig-like hands. 

“Are you ready?” Vilgax asked.

The other alien nodded, frowning slightly. Last time, Ben had noticed that its expressions were fluid, but almost more exaggerated than a human’s, maybe because of its large eyes. Now, he thought that it looked a little unhappy. He wasn’t feeling all that chipper himself. How did Vilgax even know whether this stuff worked on humans? He hadn’t seen through the entire ship, but he was pretty sure Vilgax didn’t have any humans working for him. His palms felt sweaty and he discreetly rubbed them on his pants. He was feeling a little panicky again. In fact, if he wasn’t still under the command to follow Vilgax, he might have made a break for it. His eyes locked onto the medic, who had turned and opened a sliding panel in the wall beside the door. It lifted out something that looked like a black circle of Velcro. 

“Hold out one hand, palm up,” it instructed Ben. 

Was that the vaccine? Bemused, Ben held up his right hand as instructed. The alien touched the circular pad to the soft skin of Ben’s wrist. Ben couldn’t help flinching as the pad made contact with his skin. It seemed almost to wriggle and adhered like a suction cup. Ben looked at it nervously. He wondered if it was busy digging hundreds of tiny needles into his skin, injecting something into him. If it was, he couldn’t feel it. It just felt like a rather large band aide. Even as he watched, it wriggled again and then came loose and fell to the floor. Ben inspected his wrist for pin pricks but didn’t see any.

“That’s it?” he asked uncertainly. 

“It is,” The medic confirmed. It turned to Vilgax. “Remember what I said Lord,” it said with another dip of the head. 

Vilgax didn’t answer, but again a tentacle flicked to the side. Ben wondered if that was a sign of agreement or an admonishment not to talk about whatever it was. The medic’s words didn’t mean anything to him, but he kept it in mind. He looked back at his wrist, wondering if the skin was starting to itch or if it was just his imagination. 

Vilgax moved toward the door and Ben's heart twisted. He didn’t particularly want to stay here getting stuck full of alien medicine, but he really didn’t want to go back to his cell. He didn’t want to go back to staring at the walls and wondering if anyone was coming to rescue him, and he didn’t want to eat more of those spongy patties Vilgax kept giving him. He almost called out to Vilgax to stop again, but what could he say? He bit the inside of his lip instead and stared around the infirmary with false interest. Then his feet moved helplessly and he trailed after Vilgax down the halls once again. 

Vilgax was pleased. He had gone to the bridge after returning Ben to his room, and now stood surveying the busy pilots as they checked calculations and studied the new information the _Antarasin_ ’s computers were constantly providing. There had been no hostile encounters during their escape from earth, and Vilgax was now confident that the distractions he had provided had been sufficient to prevent Tennyson from following. By now the humans surly believed the Ben was dead. Why would they not? During his previous encounters with Ben he had made no secret of what he intended to do to the young human once he had the boy on his ship. Even if they did not yet believe the boy was dead, at this point there would be no way for them to track him or discover where he was bound. Tennyson had lost, and Ben was his.

He was also pleased with Ben’s behavior today. Although he had given Ben no chance to physically disobey him, he had expected much more of an emotional outburst, particularly when the young human learned where they were going and why. Instead, though he was clearly frightened, Ben had remained quiet and obedient, a strange reaction after his defiance the day before. 

It was difficult to predict how Ben would react to any given scenario. Just when he believed that he had figured the human out he would do something unexpected. Today’s reaction was a perfect example. Vilgax had not planned to tell Ben why they were going to the infirmary. The lack of answers would have aided the feelings of helplessness and isolation that he wanted to instil in the boy. However, it seemed that Ben was being affected much more strongly than Vilgax had anticipated. Vilgax was now being constantly reminded of how young Ben actually was. He had been deprived of his family, his planet and even his ability to be a hero, and Vilgax had begun to see him more as a frightened child. That was the only part that worried him, but he was sure that the confident and resourceful fighter in Ben would eventually return once the boy had been properly broken.  
Vilgax was not a very patient being, but he knew that he must take his time when dealing with Ben. He could not allow himself to expect too much permanent change at first. Ben needed to fully realize that there would be no escape, and he would, of that Vilgax would make certain. 

They had encountered no unexpected obstacles and would be arriving at Crito-Ah tomorrow. Then he could begin to train Ben properly.

The Zithsian looked out again over the bridge of his warship with its gleaming instruments and controls at which crewmembers worked like a tribe of tireless frirx. (1) His conquest would come soon enough. Now he needed to ensure that his most powerful weapon would be ready.

(1) A kind of tiny, burrowing mammal native to Xentrex.

Thanks for reading everyone!  
I was having trouble with the infirmary scene, and Vilgax`s reflections nearly drove me up the wall. Hope those scenes were alright.  
Hope you’re all still enjoying Shades of Self. Next chapter gets interesting. We will see a new planet, and may even find out the answer to why Vilgax started this whole thing in the first place. War is a part of Zithsian culture, Vilgax`s race in this story, and you will likely hear something about their politics next chapter.  
See you all next time!


	10. Illness

Shades Of Self chapter 10  
Disclaimer: Still not mine. If it was, the new show would not have changed animations on us.  
Enjoy everyone! 

“He fought his way through wind and rain and acid sands, and he was discouraged and turned back, for he could not know that the pain was only in his mind.”  
\- From “The Tales of Knowledge” by Korvin Parr.

Four Years Ago

Everything hurt. 

Ben tried to sit up and the room spun around him. He let his head drop back onto the pillow and closed his eyes against the light. He didn't think it had been more than a couple of hours since Vilgax had shut him back in his cell. 

At first he had felt fine, or as fine as he had felt in the last two days. He had reluctantly investigated his breakfast and eaten the familiar flavoured patties. He had begun to seriously miss the food at home, but did his best to ignore it. His water had tasted of lemon again today, but the flavour had been stronger this time, and his teeth tingled slightly as he drank it as though it were very cold.

After eating, Ben had employed himself as best he could by trying to guess what the different devices that he had seen in the infirmary were used for. He had caught himself scratching his right wrist several times and noticed a slight itch beneath the skin, but had dismissed it as paranoia. The wrist didn’t look any different and he had thought that it would likely stop itching if he could only stop thinking about it.

After a while, Ben had noticed a headache poking obnoxiously behind his eyes. He had splashed some water on his face, but it hadn’t seemed to help, so he had decided to lie down for a while as his head seemed to hurt more when he moved it.

He had drifted off into a fitful slumber, but it couldn’t have been too much later that he woke to a pounding in his head, shivers and an aching body. His skin felt tight and tender and even the roots of his hair seemed to ache. It hurt to lie there with his side pressed into the mattress, but it hurt even more when he tried to move. So he lay there while his thoughts wandered wistfully through his head. He wished that he were home in his bed, he wished that his mom were there to look after him, and he wished that sleep would find him again.

The morning was spent productively for Vilgax. 

After inspecting the bridge, the warlord sent a communication to Crito-Ah, informing the chief steward of his expected arrival time on the planet and where he planned to stay for the duration of his visit. Crito-Ah had several zones which were similar to Xentrex in climate. The plants and animals were different of course, but the environment was familiar enough to remind Vilgax of home. On this visit, he planned to stay near Conqueror’s Landing, which was not only Crito-Ah’s capital, but was also home to his largest residence on the planet. In addition to this, unlike the capitals of most planets Vilgax had visited, Conqueror’s Landing was isolated, and the only beings who lived there were those who directly served the steward. The isolation was the most important reason Vilgax had chosen this particular residence.

Vilgax then proceeded to read the latest reports from his generals. He was not yet ready for the galaxy to see his force, and so the reports contained nothing but summaries of the recruitment and training of soldiers that had been going on subtly for a while. 

For the remainder of the morning, Vilgax worked on finalizing a schedule he had drawn up for the coming days planet-side. It was always changing as he learned more about Ben and what he would need.

When he had finished as much of his work as he cared to for the time, Vilgax’s thoughts turned once again to his captive. The boy was never really too far from his thoughts, so integral was he in Vilgax’s plans. Though Ben’s constant defiance frustrated him, Vilgax could not help admiring the courage it took to show such defiance when faced with the hopelessness of this situation, even if Ben did not fully realize his situation as of yet. 

Ben had been alone for long enough, Vilgax decided. It was time to take him for another training session.

He met no one on his way to Ben’s room, which was expected. He had chosen this area of the ship to house his captive because it was not currently in use, though it was still conveniently near to the med bay. The crew also had orders to stay out of this area unless necessary. Still, Vilgax was glad that the voyage would be over after tomorrow. It was important that Ben have as little contact with his crew as possible, though until they landed, some was unfortunately unavoidable. 

Vilgax twisted the handle and Ben’s door slid smoothly open, but there was no small, defiant human waiting for him. The warlord halted in shock at the sight that greeted him.   
Ben lay on his bunk, on his side, crumpled into a little ball of misery. His legs were folded up close to his chest, his thin shoulders hunched up as though protecting his neck, and his face was etched with pain. He did not look comfortable, but as though he hurt too much to even think of moving, and though the room was still the standard temperature, and shouldn’t have been cold, his small body shook uncontrollably. 

Vilgax was frozen for a moment. How had this happened? Then he remembered the vaccine injection and all his tentacles lashed in sudden fury. Something must have gone wrong, and his miertoh had best hope that it was not something deadly. But first he had to get Ben to the med bay. Vilgax entered the cell.

Ben had not moved when the door had opened, but now he rallied somewhat and jerked himself into a sitting position on the bunk, though it was clear that every movement was agony.

“Don’t come near me!” he gasped.

Vilgax ignored the protest and, brushing aside the shaking arms, lifted Ben into his arms. He tried to be as gentle as possible, but Ben gasped involuntarily in pain. Still, he fought for a second, struggling in Vilgax’s hold, before the pain forced him to subside. The human’s whole body was shaking, and the sweat stood out on his brow. He lay stiff as a board, all of his muscles tensed as though to hold the pain back. He seemed very small and fragile. Vilgax could feel the rapid beating of his heart and his ribcage rose and fell at his short, rapid breaths. He breathed shallowly, as if inhaling deeply would hurt too much. For the first time, Vilgax looked at Ben and he did not see his enemy or his prize. He saw a fragile, helpless hatchling, and he wished that there was something he could do to ease the pain Ben was feeling. But that would have to wait until they reached the med bay. Until then, all he could do was try to walk smoothly.

Ben floated in a red haze of pain. Every movement, every breath hurt. He lay rigid in his enemy’s hold, breath hitching in pain at every step the alien took. 

For an insane moment when Vilgax had picked him up, Ben had writhed, trying to break free, but the pain was just too much and he had stopped. His head was still reeling and he felt as though he was going to be sick. He closed his eyes against the movement and tried to pretend he wasn’t here, that this wasn’t happening. 

At last he heard the sound of a door and opened his eyes again to find the bright light of the infirmary greeting him. However, opening his eyes sent new jabs of pain flashing through his head and he clamped them shut again immediately. Vilgax spoke. His voice rumbled through Ben, jarring him and causing a fresh spasm of pain. Ben missed the words themselves, though he flinched from the anger in the rough voice. Then he was deposited on a cold metal surface with a jolt that forced a moan through his clenched teeth. He sucked in a shallow breath and tried to curl himself back into a little ball. He thought it hurt less in that position. Something touched his face and Ben snapped his eyes open again. The alien doctor had returned and was examining something, perhaps a small screen, which it was holding in its hands.

“What are you waiting for?” Vilgax demanded. His voice was surprisingly quiet, but there was such a grim threat in the words that Ben flinched again involuntarily, even though the anger wasn’t directed at him. He wanted to cry, both from the pain and from his general situation, but he bit his cheek instead and looked down at the metal table under him.

“He will be alright,” the doctor said. Its sweet voice was calm and soothing, seemingly unbothered by Vilgax’s anger. “His body is reacting as though the vaccine is an enemy virus. It is painful but not life threatening.” There was a soft clang as it placed the device it had been holding on a nearby counter. Ben heard movement and glanced up again to find that Vilgax and the doctor seemed to have moved away. The doctor said something in a soft voice that Ben couldn’t catch, but Vilgax’s response was clear enough.

“I will _not!_ ” Ben’s captor snarled. His tentacles lashed the air as though he wished to fasten them about the other alien’s throat. 

At another time, Ben would have been listening intently for anything that might help him, but in his current state Vilgax’s harsh voice cut through his head like a dull ax. He shifted slightly until he could press his throbbing forehead to the cool surface of the table. He was still trying to listen, but he would have missed the doctor’s next words had the graceful alien’s voice not been raised, for what sounded like emphasis rather than out of rage.

“You are distressing him,” it said. Its voice was still calm and respectful, if slightly louder. “At the moment he is my patient, Lord, not your prisoner, and he needs to rest.” There was a pregnant moment of silence, and then Vilgax’s voice, quieter, but still angry.

“Inform me when he is asleep and mending,” he said. “And you _will_ explain to me how you allowed this to happen.”

Ben heard him leave, but he did not look up again. Moving wasn’t worth the effort right now. Something cool touched his arm and he flinched at the sensation. He sensed the doctor standing over him again. 

“You will be alright,” the alien said gently. “Sleep.”

Ben felt as though a blanket was being drawn over his eyes. Drugs again, he supposed, though this time he was almost glad. Anything if it meant he could sleep and forget the pain for a while. His thoughts grew fuzzy and indistinct, and then vanished, and the tense muscles relaxed, and all was peaceful and dark.

Vilgax was seething. He wanted to demand an explanation of Atron at once, but he could not. He would have to wait until the Miertoh had tended to Ben. All he knew was that the explanation had better be good when he heard it if Atron did not want to be left on Crito-Ah. In the meantime, he did not want to stew by himself. He needed something to distract his mind until it was time to meet with Atron. The warlord headed to his second in command’s quarters. 

Vilgax was not a very social being, preferring to maintain a separation between himself and others. He did not wish his subordinates to know him as anything other than their commander. It was the safest way to keep from exposing weaknesses. This was the reason he never made use of the officer lounge on the _Antarasin_ , preferring to relax in his own quarters. The lounge was too public a room for him to let his guard down. However, Trisaara was one of the very few beings that Vilgax trusted completely. She had been one of his officers since shortly after he had left Xentrex, and sometimes they would meet over a few drinks and tell a few old war stories. 

The door to her quarters was open, which meant that she was within and was not working. Trisaara was not an easy being to approach, and no crew member would be foolish enough to enter her room without permission. The warlord, however, was the exception.

Trisaara rose when her leader entered, antennae tilted quizzically to the side. The light in her room was low, but it still reflected slightly off her compound eyes, the only truly visible part of her. The rest of her body was merely a black, angled shadow floating behind the eyes. Vilgax mused that she would have looked truly nightmarish to any humans coming unexpectedly into her room.

“Welcome Warlord,” she greeted. When she spoke her words sounded slightly clipped, and there was a trill just beneath the surface. Vilgax’s tentacles moved in acknowledgment. He was never one for greetings.

Trisaara was a vandar; slightly over six feet in height, not counting her two sensitive antennae. Her exoskeleton appeared black under the cold ship’s lighting, but shown metallic blue in sunlight. She still retained the eight limbs possessed by her crawling ancestors, though their uses had changed significantly. She walked upright on her two lower sets of limbs and used the next set to fight and manipulate devices. The uppermost set of limbs was usually tucked up under her chin, only emerging to protect her face or to manipulate something that required incredibly fine motor skills.

She touched a panel on the wall, and the light brightened slightly so that the rest of her body came into focus. Vilgax saw that she was holding a thetch (1) stalk in one of her uppermost limbs which was already partially nibbled. Noticing Vilgax’s lingering anger, she placed the stalk on the table in front of her and motioned for him to join her in the relaxation alcove. 

“This would be easier if you would take my advice,” she observed as he settled himself.

Vilgax’s tentacles made a correcting motion. “This is not about what we discussed,” he said. “And I have told you that your methods would not work in this situation.”  
She shrugged, antenna twitching up and then down. “If you beat it enough anything will break.” She looked sidelong across at him. “Nevertheless, you do not look as if you wish to begin that argument again. Will you have some coaff?” (2)

“Very well,” Vilgax agreed, “but only half a container.” He took the container Trisaara passed him and they drank in companionable silence. 

“Do you recall the siege of Closee?” Trisaara asked after a while. “I thought we would never get inside.”

“You are always a pessimist,” Vilgax said. He tried to put the morning’s events from his mind, at least for a little while. He would have to deal with them soon enough.

(1) Thetch is mild drug common on Vandra (Trisaara’s planet). The user nibbles at the plant stalks and the drug stimulates his/her memories and brings on feelings of peace and relaxation. It is legal and is commonly used to relieve stress. It is also used at funerals to remember the deceased.  
(2) Coaff is a substance similar to alcohol and enjoyed by many species.

Thanks for reading everyone!  
Here we have another window into Vilgax’s mind and plans. And once again, I had trouble writing it. I can write for Ben so easily, but Vilgax is just difficult. Hope it came out alright.  
I also hope nobody hates me for Ben’s reaction to the vaccine. As I may have mentioned before, I’m not a doctor. I chose a reaction I thought was plausible, and I hope it worked. Sorry for Ben being in so much pain this chapter. He’ll be a little more himself again when we see him next.  
Ben got a small respite from Vilgax. I wouldn’t count on Atron for too much help, however. His planet never even tried to form a resistance to Vilgax’s rule.  
Trisaara was a little more outlined in this chapter. Hope nobody gets bored by all the alien explanations. Her appearance was inspired by the Thranx from Alan dean Foster’s “Founding of the Commonwealth” books, although this race is very different.  
I thought it would be good to have someone that Vilgax could relax with. Yes he’s a loner, but he still needs to have some being that he can reminisce with. Yes he’s still her boss, but they know each other a little better. There is nothing romantic between them, they’re just old friends. I am trying not to bore you with too many ocs, but as we are getting to know Vilgax, we also have to get to know his crew to some extent, and I makes sense to flesh out some of them. Trisaara is likely a character that we will see a little more, but she won’t be overshadowing Ben or Vilgax, so no worries there.  
Thanks for reading!


	11. Nightmare

Shades Of Self Chapter 11  
Disclaimer: I don’t own Ben 10, but even if I did, I wouldn’t be mean enough to do this to him, I hope…  
Welcome back!  
Song recommendation for this chapter is Come Back Down by Danny Fernandes. At least for the last part.  
Nothin’ else to say, just enjoy! 

“Warton’s heart became heavier than it had ever been in all his life. For the first time, there was absolutely no hope in it.”  
_A Toad for Tuesday_ by Russell E. Erickson

“Nothing is more thoroughly dampened than fresh hope reduced to ash.”  
 _Laws of Conquest_ , by Zithsian warlord Ungarred

Four Years Ago

“Now, explain.”

Viglax’s voice was a quiet growl, charged with a menace which seemed to fill the med bay’s file room, and most of his subjects would already be trembling at the obvious danger it hinted at, but Atron seemed entirely unaffected. Slarssans were completely logical during confrontations. They had their differences in opinion, and in fact relished debates. However, their arguments were always rooted firmly in fact, and they would never respond emotionally to any argument.

“Gladly, lord.” The Miertoh selected a data pad from those on his desk. He tapped the screen to bring up the file he was looking for and then handed the pad to his master. Vilgax glanced at the screen and saw that Atron had already compiled Ben’s illness and treatment records. He was always prepared. 

Vilgax glanced toward the door to the main part of the med bay where Ben was sleeping. He had looked much better when the warlord had returned from his first mate’s room. The sweating and shivering had stopped, and his breathing had been relaxed and peaceful. At times like this, it was easy to forget the powers that the child wielded with such skill and fire. Humans were a young race, just barely beginning to take a hand in their own biology. They were still very vulnerable to illness. Vilgax despised them for it.  
The warlord turned back as his Miertoh continued to speak.

“If you will look at the charts,” Atron gestured fluidly, “You will notice that my error came from a failure to account for the genetic modifications from the device that he is bonded to.” 

Vilgax flicked a tentacle dismissively. “Those modifications occur only when he morphs.”

Atron gestured negatively. “I am referring to his genetic connection to the device itself, lord. It seems to have altered his DNA very slightly at the base level. Not enough to be noticeable, but sufficiently to allow the symbiotic connection which…”

Vilgax cut him off with a sharp gesture. “That is enough Miertoh. I am familiar with the connection. I trust that you will take greater care when administering to him in the future.”  
Atron bowed slightly. “I will take the utmost care in his treatment, lord.” He always did so, but Atron did not say that. This was merely Vilgax’s manner. His lord knew that he was the most careful and skilled being for the job, or else Atron would not still be here.

The warlord flicked a tentacle in acknowledgement. He seemed about to leave, but then turned back, eyes hard.

“You will speak of this to no one,” he ordered. “It concerns you only as it influences his treatment. Inform me when he awakens.”

Atron bowed again as his lord moved away. He then placed the files back in their storage container and went back to his work. In this position you learned not to expect explanations for everything, particularly where Vilgax was concerned.

Ben was awake.

He still felt week and his skin was too sensitive as he shifted beneath the sheets, but the pain was gone. It was a profound relief, like waking from a nightmare, and for a moment Ben simply lay there, breathing contentedly. Wait, why was he under a sheet?

Ben opened his eyes.

Soft, white light greeted him and he realized that he must still be in the infirmary. He was lying on one of the examination tables that he had seen during his earlier visits, but if felt almost as soft as a bed now. He seemed to be alone, but in the distance he could hear a faint chime, as though someone had struck a wine glass with a metal fork.

Ben’s mind was beginning to work now, to wake up after what seemed like forever. A thought fluttered through his mind on delicate gossamer wings, awakening the faint stirrings of hope. He had just remembered something that caused his heart to quicken and his breath to catch in his throat. 

Vilgax had ordered not to leave his cell. He had never forbidden him from escaping the ship.

Ben sat up gingerly, pushing the covers back with one hand. He still felt exhausted and his skin was very tender when it rubbed against the sheets, yet he was shaking with nervous tension. This was his best, and perhaps his only, chance of escape. He had to succeed, no matter what. 

However, as he sat up, he noticed the first complication. His clothes were gone. Instead of his white and black t-shirt and green cargo pants, he was clad only in a kind of long nightshirt or hospital gown, though there was no split down the back, thankfully. It was made of plain, gray fabric and went slightly past his knees. He looked around for his clothes, but they were not in evidence, and he knew he couldn’t waste time with a more thorough search.

Well, he would just have to manage without them then. Vilgax or that doctor could come in at any minute and then he would lose his chance, possibly forever.

Ben hopped off of the table and then immediately grabbed the edge of it as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He shut his eyes as the world seemed to spin. As the dizziness receded, he glanced apprehensively toward the door at the back of the room. Someone was back there. He could hear another chiming sound, and a rustle of movement.

He took one slow step backwards and then another, his eyes never leaving the door the noises had come from. He continued backing this way until he could sense the door out to the corridor looming at his back.

He turned then and, taking hold of the handle with both hands, slid the heavy door open, still watching the back of the infirmary uneasily. As soon as the space was wide enough, he darted through the door, only to run headlong into a tall, feathery alien who had been poised to enter. The tray of small, clear vials which the alien had been carrying went flying out of its hands, the vials clattering on the floor with a sound that seemed as loud as machine gun fire, but Ben did not see them. After the momentary shock, he barrelled into the alien and past, and bolted down the corridor, knowing only that his chance of escape was growing slimmer every second.

The metal floor was cold beneath his feet, but Ben kept running. He had had no immediate direction in mind, but as he ran, he recognized the oval door that signaled the elevator, and an idea glowed to life. Ben skidded to a halt and slapped his palm on the pad that activated the elevator. The door slid open, to his relief, and he slipped inside. The floor lit up immediately, and the navigation lights flickered on like multi-coloured fireflies. Ben thought that he could hear a noise behind him, but it was difficult to tell over the blood pounding in his ears. He had no time to hesitate in any case. He gingerly moved his hand into the array of lights, swiftly touching as many as he could. The door slid closed as before, and Ben lent against the wall, if only for a moment. His heart was racing as though he had run a marathon, and he was surprised to feel his legs shaking under him. He held up a hand. Even his hands were shaking.

The door to the elevator slid smoothly open and Ben glanced out to check that the coast was clear, and then ventured into the hallway. 

There was an open door ahead and to the left, and he made for it without giving himself time to think. It looked like some kind of storage room, rows and rows of shelves stacked with grey storage crates. It was dimly lit and empty so far as he could see and Ben ducked inside gratefully. He quietly slid the door closed and then pressed himself against one of the walls of crates and tried not to breath.

Outside the room he could hear nothing. It was eerily quiet, and he felt the urge to go and peak out of the door. He resisted and waited, breathing quietly, listening to the blood pulsing in his ears. 

Ben’s heartbeat gradually slowed. His legs felt stiff from standing still and tense as he was, but he couldn’t relax. He had to be ready in case someone opened the door.  
When he had run headlong out of the infirmary, he hadn’t taken the time to think how he would escape. He had simply seen his chance and taken it. But now his mind began to work.

Vilgax would be looking for him. He had probably already sent his robots to search the ship. Point being, Vilgax would find him in here; it was only a question of when. Ben allowed his shaking legs to sink into a crouch. It seemed to relieve the feeling somewhat. 

When he had touched the symbols in the elevator, it had been completely random. He was almost certainly on a different floor, but it might be only one floor removed, or fifty. And he had no idea how big the ship was, though he figured that it must be fairly large, if only based on the ship Ben had seen, and subsequently blown up, during his first encounter with Vilgax. If he had managed to find and hole-up in some out-of-the-way corner, it might be a long time before he was found – long enough, perhaps, to find his way to the docking bay. His only chance was to find a small vessel and steal it, but he was flying blind. He didn’t know where he was in the ship, and he didn’t know how to use the elevator. He also wasn’t certain that he could find his way back to the docking bay even if he made it back to the more familiar part of the ship. And then there was the fact that his heart was still beating faster than normal and his knees felt like they were filled with water.

Just as he was wondering whether to leave the room and begin his search or whether to sit down for a moment and wait for the shaking to stop, the door slid open and both options evaporated like the smoke from a blown out candle.

Vilgax stood there, seeming to fill the room with his smouldering gaze. He looked at least thirty feet tall. Ben froze against the wall. He knew Vilgax had seen him, but his mind just wouldn’t accept it. He needed, at least for one more second, to believe that he had a chance to escape.

“Come here Ben.” Vilgax’s voice was quiet, a calm growl, but Ben knew he was angry. His tentacles hung still but tensed, almost quivering.

Ben felt a little trickle of anger himself. What, had Vilgax thought he wouldn’t even try to escape from this nightmare? But the anger was mild. What he mostly felt was sick.

Vilgax was waiting, Ben recognized with an inward shudder. He could obey, or he could be forced. Ben felt trapped, pinned to the wall by the alien’s gaze. A bead of sweat crawled maddeningly down the small of his back and his bare feet had begun to cramp on the cold metal. His head was heavy and sore, and he could feel his legs shaking again. He wished Grandpa and Gwen would come bursting in to save him, and he wished his mother was there to wrap her warm arms around him, but no one was here. There was only him. He was alone. And he just couldn’t do it again. Not now.

Slowly he stood, aided by one hand on the wall behind him and, moving away from the poor shelter of the wall, walked over to Vilgax. He stopped before he got too close and stood shakily, wishing vainly for something to lean against.

Vilgax knelt, bringing his face closer to Ben, red eyes never leaving the boy’s face. He did not seem surprised that Ben had done as he had ordered. His tentacles were still tense, as though about to fasten about someone’s throat.

“You will never run away again,” Vilgax said quietly, and it was both an order and a promise. 

Ben’s throat was suddenly very dry.

“You’re not going to kill me, are you?” He asked dully, but he already knew the answer. He didn’t know why he hadn’t known it before. Perhaps he simply hadn’t wanted to believe it.

“No,” Vilgax answered in that same quiet tone, like gravel grating beneath the tires of a car.

“Why not? Ben felt lightheaded, but he felt that he had to ask, as long as Vilgax kept answering.

“You know so little,” the alien said, and his tentacles shifted as a ripple seemed to pass through them. “I have no desire to harm you.”

“What are you talking about?” Ben retorted desperately. “We’re enemies! You hate me! You’ve been trying to kill me since before I even knew you existed!”

Vilgax’s tentacles wriggled again and Ben had the sudden impression that he was being laughed at.

“We are no longer enemies,” the alien said. “An enemy would be a threat to me, and you ceased to be that when you surrendered. It is something you will never be again.”

 _No!_ Ben was screaming internally. _This is temporary! It has to be!_ His throat wouldn’t work. All that he could do was to shake his head dumbly. Vilgax continued, although for once Ben wished that he would stop.

“You will be here for the remainder of your life and you must learn to accept it.”

“Why?” Ben breathed, almost pleading. He didn’t want to hear this, hadn’t wanted to speak, but he couldn’t stop himself. Everything felt surreal, as though he were trapped in a nightmare. 

Vilgax stood once more, towering. He seemed to withdraw, although his voice was the same.

“Because that is my will,” he said with finality. His tentacles waved, brushing away invisible cobwebs. “Come,” he ordered.

Ben thought he might scream. He couldn’t take much more of this. Surely soon he would crack, then shatter into a million pieces. He was shaking with the pent-up emotion, unless that was just his weakened body trying to keep him upright. The only saving grace was that Vilgax had ordered him rather than commanding. He was still technically in control of himself, small comfort as that was. He took one step, and then another. His eyes were aching, but he forced them wide open and kept walking. He couldn’t let himself cry.

The trip back to the infirmary was silent. Ben couldn’t bring himself to speak, and in fact, most of his energy was spent simply on continuing to put one foot in front of the other. He would not show any more weakness in front of his enemy. And he wouldn’t admit that what he was most afraid of was Vilgax carrying him back.

It was a short journey, though Ben was still in the dark about how far he had actually gotten in his ill-fated escape attempt. The elevator could have passed hundreds of floors.

Ben could feel his stomach settle lower into his shoes as they neared the door. He had the sudden impulse to bolt; not with any hope of escape, but simply to put off the time when he would have to walk through it. He felt as though something indefinable was slipping away from him like water through a sieve. But the shear uselessness of flight made him hesitate too long, and then he was through the door and it closed behind him. 

What happened next was simply torture. Ben sat or stood emotionlessly as the doctor performed several tests on him, including the coloured-light scan from before. None of them were painful or even uncomfortable, but Ben was in agony the whole time. He was fighting a slowly losing battle against breaking down, and it seemed years until the final test was complete and he was escorted back to his cell. The only saving grace was that nobody made him talk. There was a hard lump in his throat that he couldn’t possibly have spoken around. The doctor occasionally directed him to hold out one arm or stand still, but aside from that he might just as well not have been there. Vilgax and the doctor talked constantly about him over his head and expected no input from him. It was almost like they thought that he wasn’t there or couldn’t understand. This made the experience both easier and much worse than it would otherwise have been. Perhaps he could have used the information to learn more about what had caused his illness, but he couldn’t bring himself to care enough to concentrate on the conversation.

Only when he was once more faced with that familiar hated room did he find the energy to realize that he was still wearing the grey night-shirt. The doctor had made him put on some soft grey slipper-things with rubbery soles, so at least his feet were warm, but the realization of his dress halted his feet and he turned with a sudden urgent thought.

“I forgot to bring my clothes,” he stated softly.

“Clothes have been provided for you in your room,” Vilgax returned evenly. It was impossible to tell whether he was surprised at the question, even if Ben currently possessed the inclination to try and puzzle the monster out.

“What happened to _my_ clothes?” Ben thought that there might be a note of panic in his voice now, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Vilgax waved one tentacle, and now his voice was definitely dismissive.

“They were damaged and have been disintegrated.”

Ben’s head swam. His tongue seemed to cleave to the roof of his mouth and he could only stare at Vilgax incredulously.

“The clothes you have been provided with are more than adequate,” his captor continued. “Now rest. You are still recovering.” He paused for a moment before the command. “Do not leave your room.” 

Ben walked shakily into his cell, and the door slid closed. He felt as though he had swallowed a stone which was now lodged in his throat, pressing painfully into his flesh. They had only been clothes, yet he felt as though he had lost his only friend. They had at least been something familiar; something of his. He swallowed as best he could and then felt the warm liquid building at his eyes. He had not cried when he thought Grandpa and Gwen might not be coming for him, or when he wondered if he would ever see his parents again, but now he could not stop it. He made it to the bed, had just time to press his face into his pillow before the first sob forced its way out. 

He lay there, crying helplessly, letting the sobs shake his body and force their way painfully from him. Perhaps Vilgax was watching, but there was nothing he could do about that. He was trapped in a nightmare and, for the first time, he knew that there was no escape.

Thanks for reading, everyone!  
I must love standoffs in warehouses.   
I would love to say that I had Ben’s escape planned way back when Vilgax gave him that order, but the truth is that I completely didn’t notice that Vilgax hadn’t ordered him not to escape from the ship. I only noticed the omission later during a reread, so this chapter kind of emerged out of nowhere. For all of that however, I really liked how it turned out, and what it added to the story.  
Next time we take a brief trip into the present to see how Gwen is doing.  
Let me know what you think, and see you all soon!


	12. Conversations

Shades Of Self chapter 12  
Disclaimer: No Ben 10 owning for me. Tear.  
Hello everyone!  
Gwen has been hanging there for a loooong time. It has been ages since we had a present day chapter, so if anyone feels a little fuzzy on what happened the last time we saw our heroes, take a quick look back at chapter 1 and chapter 3. That should get you up to speed.   
Just before we start, I have a story that I need to recommend. It is called “Pet and Owner”, and can be found at https:// www . fan fiction . net /s/9424334/1/ Pet-and-Owner (Just remove the spaces, and let me know if it doesn’t work.) If you like the Teen Titans, cartoon or comic, and at all enjoy Garfield Logan as a character (and if you’re reading my story) you will love this one! Check it out and you will not regret it!   
Now, back to our show!

“I can see where we are and where we once were, but how we came to find ourselves in this place remains a mystery.”  
 _The Twelve Quests of Eleida_ , Ancient Zithsian poet, unnamed.

Present Day

In the four years since he had been taken, Ben had become a master at hiding his emotions. You were much more formidable when your enemy could not tell what you were thinking, when they could not discover your weaknesses. He had been endlessly drilled at masking his feelings in every situation. It had been a slow and painful process, but the resulting control was flawless. His face was calm and smooth. 

Nevertheless, he watched both of the prisoners carefully. They appeared helpless, but both had a reputation for being dangerous, even more dangerous than they had been when he had last seen them. He did not like that his Master was here in the cell, even with them restrained. It put him on high alert, and he felt as though he was watching everywhere at once for concealed plots and traps. 

He was also uncomfortable because his Master had ordered him to become human. It meant that he would need to take an extra second to transform before he could react to anything, something which could be costly if there was unexpected danger. He did not like their eyes on him. He was never human before his enemies, or usually in the presence of anyone besides his master. It wasn’t required of him, but it had become habit. He had thousands of different aliens to choose from, and there were several hundred that he could become without even thinking about it, depending on what was needed. His aliens were a part of him. It felt natural to shift between forms, each a perfect reaction to the situation.

As a human, he was limited. It made him slightly more on edge than normal, and he only waited for a threatening twitch from the prisoners to change.

By contrast, Vilgax was completely at ease. His tentacles hung languidly down his armour, with only a slight waving at the ends of them which showed his satisfaction. He was obviously enjoying this immensely, and Ben felt a slight trickle of irritation. Naturally his Master had that luxury, while Ben was permanently on tenterhooks. As his Master’s bodyguard, that always seemed his lot. 

He could only hope that this would be over soon.

Gwen’s arms were beginning to hurt from their uncomfortable position. She was painfully conscious of the headband restricting her magic and she had developed a frustrating itch between her shoulder blades. However, these discomforts were relegated to the back of her mind. She was bewildered and confused, yet she kept feeling little trills of happiness rising up inside her. She could not take her eyes off of her cousin. She felt as though she aught to say something, but she didn’t think that she could quite manage it.   
She had spent four years training; had thought that she was prepared for anything, but Ben’s appearance had caught her completely off guard. She wondered whether that had been Vilgax’s intention in having Ben change back to his human form. She glanced back at the monster and noticed that his red eyes rested not on her, but on Grandpa Max. He was slumped against the wall, head falling limply to the side. 

As she watched, Vilgax’s eyes narrowed and a tentacle flicked forward as though dislodging a fly. The response was instantaneous. Ben darted forward, body shifting too rapidly for the eye to follow. Gwen caught a glimpse of a pale blue amorphous thing, something like a jelly-fish, where the young man had stood, and then a tentacle lashed out and Grandpa Max screamed as electricity coursed through him. The next second Ben was back in his original position; human again, and as calm as though she had only imagined the attack.

Gwen glanced at Grandpa in concern. He was breathing heavily, but his eyes were on Vilgax.

“I don’t know what game you’re playing Vilgax,” Grandpa Max said, voice rasping slightly and filled with venom, “but you should have left my grandson out of it.”

“The game is over Tennyson,” the alien responded. His harsh voice was as calm as possible, though it still seemed like sandpaper against Gwen’s ears. He leaned forward slightly, and then moved back again dismissively. “You have aged, old man. I thought that you might die before you ever learned the truth.”

Gwen had been watching this exchange, but she found her gaze wandering back to her cousin. He stood in a relaxed posture with his hands clasped behind his back, but his face was alert. Her eye was drawn back to the collar he was wearing. It was smooth and black and reminded her of onyx. She felt a tightening at the base of her throat and looked away again, back at Vilgax. There was no warmth in Ben’s eyes. It was not as though he did not recognize her, but rather that he simply didn’t care. 

Grandpa Max was still breathing heavily from the electrical attack, but he managed to quirk his mouth into a bitter smirk.

“If you think seeing what you did to my grandson will destabilize me, Vilgax, you’re sorely mistaken,” he retorted. “I gave him up for dead long ago.”

“Whatever you feel is no concern of mine,” Vilgax growled. His tentacles quivered slightly and then stilled. “Before now I imagined that I would feel more satisfaction when you were finally at my mercy, but you are merely an annoyance that I have dealt with for far too long. The only reason that you are still alive is because there may still be some value to you.” He turned away. “Lock them up separately.” This was obviously addressed to Ben, although the young man made no movement and did not shift his steady gaze until the door closed behind the warlord. 

At the metallic _click_ Ben suddenly came to life. He seemed to relax slightly and his gaze shifted between Gwen and Grandpa Max as though deciding something. His body shifted, swelling outward, skin hardening and cracking, almost more quickly than the eye could follow until another alien stood in his place. It was roughly ten feet tall and more than half that in width with skin that looked like crumbling granite, shot with coloured quartz. He then crossed to the wall and opened a hidden panel. He touched a switch, and Gwen’s cuffs opened. She fell roughly, catching herself with her hands. They felt strange and numb from hanging in the cuffs for so long, though she wasn’t certain how much time had passed. She could feel that the headband was still in place on her head, and wondered whether she had any chance to get it off. 

“Don’t try anything”, the Ben-alien warned in a voice like crunching gravel. 

Gwen dropped her gaze as though in submission, and then made a grab for the headband. She did not reach it. In fact, her hand had barely moved when there was a blur of motion and she yelped as her arms were wrenched behind her back. The rock alien was gone. The alien Ben used to call XLR8 was pinioning her hands with one clawed black hand.

Despite herself, Gwen found a lump form in her throat. The alien was larger, but otherwise looked the same as he had four years ago. He had changed less than Ben himself. XLR8 glanced at her implacably. Gwen felt something snap around her wrists to keep them together, than she was pulled to her feet, though not ungently. It was hard to tear her eyes from her cousin, but Gwen looked back at Grandpa Max as she was lead from the room. He shook his head at her urgently and Gwen looked away again without responding. She had no idea what she was going to do, but she wasn’t Grandpa, and she never had been.

The door closed behind them, and Ben paused for a moment while he shifted back to the rock alien from before. Likely it was stronger than XLR8. Once the change was complete they continued on, Ben towering and silent. The only sound was that of rock feet grating against the smooth metal floor. Ben seemed content to remain silent, but Gwen simply couldn’t. There were so many things she wanted to say. She wanted to ask what had happened to him in the time he was gone, to apologize for not rescuing him, and she wanted to wrap her arms around him and just confirm that he was real, but none of those things were possible right now, so she said the only thing she could think of.

“You look good. I like your hair.” Her voice sounded surprisingly calm to her ears, as though someone else were speaking. There was a long silence then, just when Gwen had decided that Ben wasn’t going to respond the stony lips opened.

“You came to kill me.” Ben’s voice was rough but bore no hostility.

“Well…yes. You’ve killed a lot of people, Ben.” _But I didn’t know it was you_. Her voice was still amazingly calm, even while she felt her heart twist at the thought. She waited to hear what he would respond.

“You wouldn’t have been able to,” he said, and for the first time, Gwen discerned an emotion when he spoke. There was a slight hint of pride in Ben’s voice. Unexpectedly, Gwen felt a twinge of familiar annoyance. 

“We could have,” she found herself saying, “if we had caught you off guard instead of the other way around.”

“No way,” Ben retorted, animation trickling into his voice like a small stream forcing its way around a dam. “I’m completely unmatched. I can beat anyone! I’ve even beaten…” He stopped abruptly and the sentence trailed away into nothing. For a moment it was almost as though the years had vanished, but the moment was gone. When Gwen looked up Ben was no longer looking at her.

They walked on for a moment and then Ben turned aside and opened another panel in the wall. The door before them opened smoothly revealing a cell completely identical to the last one. Gwen entered unresistingly and allowed herself to be manacled to the wall, though with her feet touching the ground this time, thank goodness. It wasn’t that she had given up, but Ben gave her no opportunities to resist. He was silent again, and so was she, but when he turned away toward the door Gwen found she had one more thing to say.  
“I missed you,” she whispered. 

Ben seemed to stop for a moment, and then he continued through the door and it closed behind him, leaving her alone with only her thoughts.

Next chapter will be back in the past. This is just a pleasant (1) interlude to find out a bit more about the present.  
Please tell me what you thought of Ben in this chapter. I wanted him to seem basically invincible at this point, not that he doesn’t have weaknesses, just that they are not apparent. Still, he is very different from what we have seen so far. I hope I will explain how he gets to this point.  
See you soon!

(1) Note: may not actually be pleasant, at least for the characters. At least Vilgax is having fun.


	13. Change Of Scene

Shades Of Self chapter 13  
Disclaimer: Nope. Still not mine. You guys will be the first to know!  
Written mostly to Within Temptation.  
Enjoy!

That which we cannot comprehend always appears darkest.  
\- Slarsaran motto

Four Years Ago

Ben slept fitfully. 

Given his situation and current emotional state, it is remarkable that he slept at all, but after sobbing into his pillow for what felt like hours he was simply bone-weary. He was still weak from whatever illness had afflicted him, and exhausted from the hopeless crying, and so he slept. Every so often, he would start awake in the darkness of his cell, and then drift off to sleep again. His dreams, if he had any, went mercifully unremembered.

However, he must have slept for the final part of the night, because when he awakened, it seemed to be morning. The light was back on, at any rate.

Ben sat up warily and, glancing around his prison, noticed that the robots had brought him breakfast, such as it was. The thought of the alien, likely synthesized, repast was not particularly appetizing, but Ben felt his stomach rumble gently at the thought of food. He had not eaten since before his illness, and he wasn’t even certain how long that had been. Vilgax had not bothered to tell him whether he had slept for hours or days before his ill-fated escape attempt.

He pushed the thought away. He didn’t want to deal with it at the moment.

Slowly, Ben swung his legs over the side of the bed and approached the copper tray. It was then that he realized he was still wearing the long, grey nightshirt. It made him feel uncomfortable, vulnerable and unprepared for whatever might happen. He ought to get dressed before Vilgax came back. However, the idea of putting on the clothes that his captor had provided for him made his skin crawl, and his own were gone. Disintegrated.

He swallowed thickly.

 _Dress first, then eat,_ he decided. After that he could deal with whatever came next. Vilgax had not told him where the clothes were, but there were an aggressively limited number of surfaces in the room. Ben found them after only a few minutes of searching. They were folded neatly on the self under his bed, along with the untouched pajamas. The new clothes were plain black. There were several sets of socks and underwear, a pair of pants and a short-sleeved shirt, all in black. There was also a pare of flexible, short black boots. He carried them into the bathroom and dressed as quickly as possible, making sure that the pants were on before he took off the nightshirt. He hoped that the bathroom wasn’t surveiled, but he couldn’t be certain.

When he had finished, he ate. The food patties this time tasted rather like rice, broccoli and some kind of chicken stew respectively, which made him wonder whether it was later in the day than he thought. His meals up until now had seemed to coincide roughly with the time of day, but he didn’t know what kind of human care handbook Vilgax was using if this was supposed to be an approximation of breakfast. 

Still, he ate the almost-food without complaint, chewing mechanically and finishing it off with a swig of sweet, vaguely strawberry flavoured water. He felt the food settle like a heavy rock in his stomach, but he managed to force it all down.

He had hardly finished, in fact he was just replacing the dishes in their container, when he heard the distinct _click_ of his door as it slid smoothly open.

Ben’s stomach tightened again at the site of his captor, and he rose to his feet involuntarily. Vilgax’s words from the previous evening flashed to the forefront of his mind.   
_You will be here for the remainder of your life and you must learn to accept it._

He mentally shook himself in an attempt drive away the words and what they meant. His mouth felt dry and there was a strange pressure in his chest. Still, he stood his ground and managed to raise his eyes gingerly to meet Vilgax’s. The alien’s face seemed expressionless, but Ben had the impression that his captor was studying him for something.

“How do you feel Ben?” Vilgax asked, his rasping voice breaking the silence.

“How do I…feel?” Ben felt the bizarre urge to laugh in Vilgax’s face, although it was balanced out by an urge to burst into tears. Just how did the alien think he was feeling? 

One of Vilgax’s forward tentacles twitched to the side.

“Has your body fully healed, or are you still weak?” he corrected.

Ben swallowed his rising emotions. He breathed in deeply so his voice wouldn’t shake. “I’m fine,” he managed after a moment. It was true. Physically he did feel much better. He was still a little shaky, but nothing compared to the pain and weakness he had experienced before.

“Good,” his enemy approved with a growl, this being his normal tone of voice. “Come here.”

Ben obliged warily, putting one foot in front of the other without letting himself think about what he was doing, and stopping only when he was right in front of the massive alien. He was self-conscious, standing there obediently in clothes that were not his, and he couldn’t bring himself to continue looking Vilgax in the eye. Instead, he found his gaze wandering to the alien’s left arm. The appendage rippled with bulging, sickly-green muscle, marred here and there by protruding metal. 

He would later wish that he had kept his eyes up. Than maybe he could have dodged. Not that it would have made a difference in the end. 

As it was, before the surprised boy could react, Vilgax had wrapped one hand around his middle and lifted him easily into the air.

Ben gasped as he was lifted and then held against the alien’s armoured chest. He yelled and struggled as panic flooded his system, drowning out coherent thought and any fears about possible reprisals. He simply struggled. 

He might as well have been beating his fists against the steel walls of the ship. All he managed to accomplish was to bruise his fingers and stub several toes. Vilgax held him there firmly but not cruelly, seemingly oblivious to Ben’s desperate thrashing. He did not command Ben to stop, but merely waited.

Eventually Ben’s futile struggles slowed and then ceased altogether. The exhausted boy slumped against the confining hand, breathing rapid, panicky breaths. As he came back to himself, Ben realized that his captor was moving one finger steadily up and down his back in a soothing motion. That realization made him want to begin fighting again immediately, He twitched, but otherwise didn’t move. It was useless. 

Everything he did was useless. 

As though reacting to the thought, Vilgax’s hand moved and Ben felt his feet touch the floor again. He scurried backwards as soon as he was released and only halted when he felt the cold metal wall at his back. The blood was pounding in his ears and his heart was racing. He wished fervently that he could press himself through the unyielding metal.

“Wha…what was that for?” he demanded, although it came out as more of a whisper. He could hear his voice shaking.

Vilgax did not answer. He waited for a moment, as though giving Ben a chance to catch his breath. Then, “Come,” he ordered. 

_What?_

_WHAT?!_

For a moment Ben did not move; just remained pressed against the wall. His heart was pounding like a drumbeat in his ears and his head was muddled with confusion. Vilgax had turned partially and was waiting for him in the corridor. Ben closed his eyes briefly and took a deep, steadying breath, than he pushed himself off the wall and followed.

The corridors were grey and empty. Ben wondered, not for the first time, whether Vilgax had purposely imprisoned him in an unused part of the ship. 

His heart had slowed and no longer felt like it was trying to beat its way out of his chest, but he was still internally trembling with fear and confusion. He had been able to be angry at Vilgax before because no matter how hopeless his situation had seemed, there had always been a way to fight. Ben did not give up; it simply wasn’t in his nature. He had always been able to fight or, if he couldn’t fight, he would come up with a plan. Now he had nothing. All he could do was to wait for whatever Vilgax wanted to do to him next. What possible purpose could Vilgax have for doing _that_ to him? Was the alien really just tormenting him, or was something else going on? 

Vilgax opened the door to the elevator and entered, Ben following him reluctantly. He put as much space between himself and his captor as possible and kept his back to the wall, although he was acutely aware that it wouldn’t make any difference if Vilgax decided to do something. In fact, he could just command Ben not to fight if he wanted to.

_So why didn’t he?_

The thought stopped Ben in his mental tracks, and he was still musing on it as they left the elevator and continued their journey.

There had been many times when Vilgax waited for Ben to obey when he could have just commanded him. For whatever reason he seemed to want Ben to be obedient, not just have control over him. But then why even have the collar? To keep him from escaping? Surely there were other ways of doing that.

Vilgax had made it pretty clear last night that he didn’t want Ben dead, and he had made Ben train with the omnitrix, so did he want Ben to serve him, fight for him? Why? Vilgax must have loads of aliens under his command who would think it was some great honour or something. Why didn’t he kill Ben or cut off his arm or something and give the omnitrix to one of them?

He didn’t have the answer, but he was brought out of his musing the next moment because something had changed dramatically. Another door slid open, an extra large one this time, and they entered a vast, open space. It was the ship’s hanger, which he had seen briefly when he was captured, only now it was crawling, sometimes literally, with aliens and robots. There was a general bustle going on all around the hanger, aliens loading and unloading ships, talking on communicators and running about here and there on some kind of business.

Ben was drinking in the sight, he felt starved after so long in isolation. Then his brain kicked in and he stopped. They were in the hanger, did that mean…?

A humanoid alien with green-black scales approached Vilgax and bowed its head respectfully. It glanced at Ben and then looked quickly away.

“Your ship is ready Warlord,” it said. White teeth flashed when it spoke and there was a slight lisp to its voice. Vilgax didn’t answer, but one tentacle flicked to the side in a gesture Ben was beginning to recognize. The alien moved to the side and Vilgax strode on, Ben following. They passed several ships, one which was being unloaded of a cargo which seemed to consist of a massive purple fungus, and then they halted at a small shuttle craft similar to the one which had brought Ben from Bellwood, though larger. Ben would have liked to ask where they were going, but Vilgax was practically ignoring him right now and he was hesitant to attract the alien’s attention. He probably wouldn’t get an answer anyway.

As they entered the shuttle, the ramp retracting and the door closing silently, Ben unexpectedly felt tears well up in his eyes and he forced them back. He looked at the dark red walls instead and wished for windows. Vilgax did not speak, but when Ben glanced at him it was to find the narrow red eyes fixed on him. This time Vilgax did not leave the room, but remained standing next to Ben as the shuttle took off smoothly. The only indication that it was moving at all was a slight vibration in the metal floor.

When they landed there was a mild jolt and Ben stumbled slightly, but Vilgax did not seem to notice. He seemed content merely to let the silence stretch out indefinitely and Ben was finding it difficult not to speak up. He hated silence, always had. He wasn’t a reader and it used to irritate him when Gwen spent a whole afternoon buried in a book. Needless to say, she was usually interrupted by a blast of fire or goo after about fifteen minutes.

Still, Ben kept silent. At least something was happening.

The door opened and Vilgax walked down the ramp but Ben’s feet suddenly froze to the floor as he gazed at the landscape. He supposed he had known that they were landing on a planet, but he had not thought about what that would mean. 

The ship was sitting on a large, circular landing pad and beyond that grew a vast jungle of green and colourful plants, many with a kind of thick, squishy looking leaf. It was swampy and so colourful after the dull grays, blacks and reds of Vilgax’s ship and Ben stared at it with a kind of hunger. There was a light, misty rain falling. The droplets touched his face as he emerged from the ship. He closed his eyes as they settled on him, cool, fresh and feather light. He could smell a faint perfume from the unknown flowers and the clean, cool smell of the rain itself. 

When he opened his eyes again he was looking right at a kind of orange lizard sitting in one of the trees. It blinked when he looked at it, and then lifted its arms to reveal bat-like wings and glided to the next tree.

Ben was overwhelmed with the desire to turn into something, anything. He wanted to be off, among those trees, climbing, flying, exploring and running. He longed to run. He would run all the way home if he could.

And he was suddenly aware afresh of the ever-present collar weighing on his neck. Vilgax had commanded that he never run away again. It didn’t matter where he went. They could have traveled across the universe and it would be the same. He could see the trees, could smell them, but he could not move towards them.   
Vilgax was waiting for him and there was nothing he could do.

With an almost audible moan he tore his gaze from the trees and followed Vilgax once more.

He could still feel the rain on his face and hands and beading in his hair, and though it had lost some of its magic it was still soothing and he enjoyed it for as long as he could. The desire to change had not gone away, in fact it seemed to have intensified and the omnitrix felt warm on his wrist. 

Ben glanced at Vilgax’s massive back. The alien was walking towards a massive building which seemed to be made of black and green stone. Ben had noticed it before, but had been too preoccupied with the trees to pay it much attention. It was obviously their destination and Ben slowed his pace unconsciously. He didn’t know what would happen inside the building, but he felt like he was re-entering a prison. 

He found himself wondering if Vilgax would let him change if he asked. Five minutes; that’s all he would need. Maybe if he begged….

He shook the thought away, furious with himself and clamped down on his desire. 

The edifice loomed up before him and he closed his eyes once more to feel the rain misting on his eyelids, then opened them, set his jaw in a hard line, and followed Vilgax.

Hope you enjoyed!  
Lots of emotions in this chapter. It may appear that Ben is taking Vilgax grabbing him a little too well, but don’t worry, he just needs a little time alone to freak out about it properly. Things were happening a little too fast in this chapter.   
Thanks, and I will see you all in the next chapter.


	14. Restless

Shades Of Self Chapter 14  
Disclaimer: I do not own Ben 10. I’m just having fun. Evil, evil fun.  
The first quote in this chapter is from the webcomic “Terinu”. I have probably plugged it before, so I will just give another recommendation to check it out. You will not be disappointed.

Gene Mage: “You may move about my chambers as you please. You will not be fettered nor caged. I give you my word.”  
Terinu: “You already broke it. This room just means it’s a bigger, prettier cage.”  
\- Terinu by Peta Hewitt

“Have you ever looked into the future and found nothing there?”  
\- Unknown

Four Years Ago

The massive building loomed up before Ben like a green and black cliff. In another minute he would disappear inside it, and would he ever come back out? The door in front of them opened wide like a gaping, cavernous mouth and Ben halted just outside its shadow. It was not a conscious decision; his feet simply stopped walking, all of his resolve seemingly leached out of him. In front of him, Vilgax took another step, and then stopped as well and turned. His tentacles quivered slightly as though in the beginnings of annoyance, and his burning eyes turned to focus on the yellow-green ones of his captive. 

“Come,” the alien growled, but again it was an order rather than a command, and Ben’s legs did not move, though he thought they might be shaking. 

Ben had no words, no thoughts for what he was feeling. It was simply too much. All he knew was that he couldn’t bring himself to go through that door, out of the rain and on to whatever torture awaited. He was beyond caring about reprisals. His skin crawled at the thought of what the coming command would feel like, but he didn’t have a choice. His legs would not move, and he could not summon the willpower to make them.

He stared miserably back at Vilgax, not quite meeting the alien’s gaze, and felt the raindrops collecting gently in his hair. Despite his situation, he still enjoyed the feel of the rain.  
Vilgax was waiting. When he saw that Ben wasn’t going to move, his red eyes narrowed and his tentacles lashed all at once, and then stilled. Perhaps he realized that continuing to wait would be futile, or maybe he was just tired of it.

“Come,” he growled.

Immediately, Ben’s frozen legs moved and he walked forward into the shadow, and the arched doorway. There was no other possible action. His feelings had ceased to matter, if they ever had. As he walked, one thought lingered. He should have run when he had the option. Then he would at least have had a moment of freedom. 

His hair was still dripping slightly from the rain as he walked. A water droplet was slowly crawling down his jaw line, past his chin and then inched its way down the side of his neck. Ben flinched slightly at the tickling sensation and lifted a hand to wipe it away. His fingers brushed the smooth side of his collar and Ben yanked his hand away as if he’d been burned. How could he possibly have forgotten he was wearing it? Ben inhaled slowly, trying to steady his breathing. He rubbed his hand over the soft material of his new shirt, as though the metal had stained him somehow.

All this time he had continued walking, of course. He had to walk at a brisk pace to keep up with his captor, and so although they passed several doorways, he caught only brief glimpses into the rooms. He had a general impression of stone and moss-like carpets. Large windows looked out onto the jungle, and most of the light seemed to come from these and, oddly, from fireplaces and braziers, or from what looked like oil lamps.

Then the passageway began to slope upward gently, just enough that he could tell they were climbing. Ahead of him, the hallway ended, opening into a large, egg-shaped room, almost like a courtyard. Smooth, sloping walls climbed to the ceiling, and then stopped, leaving about a five meter round circle open to the sky. Ivy trailed around the edges of the opening, and the rain fell gently through, plopping softly into a matching circular basin in the floor. 

Ben looked around appreciatively as they entered and his black mood lifted somewhat. This was by far the nicest room he had seen since leaving earth. The walls were decorated with large mosaics, shining tiles in green, blue, black and gold. Six fires burned in long alcoves around the walls, the flames in each a different colour; orange, blue, green, red, purple and almost pure white. Ben only had a moment to marvel at these, as his attention was captured by the three aliens waiting for them in front of the rain basin.

_Man, I wish I could turn into one of those things._

They stood roughly nine feet high, and they seemed to be made entirely of plants like wildvine, although their limbs seemed thicker and tougher to Ben. They each had a large, almost flower-like crest around their heads in various shades of orange, red and yellow which made Ben think of a static picture of a fire. 

Swampfire, Ben nicknamed the species silently. That was what he would have called himself in this form if he had had the opportunity. Besides, it gave him something to call the new species, as he likely wouldn’t be told what they were actually called.

As Vilgax entered the chamber, the three turned to face him, inclining their heads slightly. They each cupped a large, green hand and held it before the middle of their green chests. Within each cupped palm danced a flickering flame. 

The thought struck Ben that this was how Vilgax was always treated, at least in whatever places he controlled. It had been the same with the doctor on his ship, and every crewmember they had passed in the corridors. He expected to be shown respect. Maybe that was why he got so angry at Ben’s quips, particularly as he seemed to expect Ben to fight for him eventually.

The tallest of the swampfire aliens lowered its hand, the flame flickering out as it did so, and raised its head. 

“Welcome Warlord”, it greeted in a deep, rather nasally voice. “All arrangements for your stay here have been completed.”

“Good,” Vilgax rumbled. 

Ben felt a strange sensation, and glanced up in time to see one of the swampfire aliens glancing quickly away. He narrowed his eyes, but looked away as well, focusing instead on the multicoloured fires in their alcoves and the mosaics on the walls, tracing their patterns with his eyes. He doubted he’d be given much time to admire them, and he was correct.   
Vilgax was examining a data pad which one of the aliens had given him. After a minute of reading he handed it back and made a dismissive flick with several tentacles. He marched off without another word, and Ben sadly watched the beautiful chamber recede behind them. Ben was a little calmer now; resigned might be a better word. His black thoughts were still swirling, but his feverish burst of energy was gone. 

Numbly, Ben followed Vilgax down the corridor, away from the magnificent hall. He tried to keep the image of it in his mind, in case he never saw it again. At least the corridors here were more interesting than those on the ship, and certainly more varied. The thick, carved stone was everywhere, sometimes smooth and plain, sometimes chiselled into regular patterns, and sometimes embedded with other stone, or with the occasional small mural when they came to a larger juncture. It eased his tension somewhat, but he still felt horribly confined. It wasn’t as though he could stop and admire, after all. Vilgax kept to a steady pace, seemingly ignoring the small human following behind him. Ben had to walk quickly to keep up with the alien’s large strides. Occasionally they passed other swampfire aliens, with variations of height, build or crest colour and shape. These aliens all bowed their heads respectfully to Vilgax as they passed, but Ben felt their eyes on him from behind as he walked away.

Eventually, they halted once again, at an unadorned door of greenish grey stone. The door slid open smoothly at a touch, and Ben was looking into a relatively small room of the same colour with a few shelves and a sleeping berth against one wall. He immediately knew it was to be his room, and felt himself shrinking back slightly. He wanted to cover his ears to block out the immanent command, but knew it wouldn’t help. Vilgax looked down at Ben, tentacles flexing slightly.

“Enter, and remain until I return.”

At the command, Ben’s feet moved. Once he was inside the room, Vilgax slid the door closed again, eyes never leaving his captive. Ben drew a shaky breath, his eyes on the closed door. He didn’t bother to check to see whether it was locked; it didn’t matter anyway. He felt restless, and his heart felt too tight in his chest. Somehow it was worse to be locked up now, when he knew there was an entire planet outside that he could be exploring. He rubbed at his arms. The skin felt dry and slightly itchy. Maybe he wasn’t drinking enough.  
There was a door at the far end of the room which lead to what seemed to be his bathroom. There was a toilet similar to the one on the ship, though seemingly made of stone like the walls, a stone water basin with what appeared to be a ceramic tap, and a smaller alcove further back.

He drank from the tap, and then stuck his head into the small room at the back. It was empty, but when he glanced up he noticed that there were small holes on the ceiling and, on a suspicion, fiddled with a ceramic knob on the wall. Water poured from the holes in a warm, even spray and Ben actually smiled. He hadn’t thought he would miss showering, but he did. He felt hot and grimy and frustrated. He glanced at the closed door. It was only an illusion of privacy, but at least Vilgax probably wouldn’t be back for a little while.   
Without giving himself any more time to think about it, Ben slipped off his clothes, leaving them in a crumpled heap of black fabric on the floor. He stepped under the spray and closed his eyes, just letting the warm water run over him. He stayed like that for a minute, just enjoying the water, and then he blinked his eyes open and glanced around the shower stall. Finding a small nozzle, he pushed it until he had a handful of some kind of soapy liquid, which he used to clean his hair and skin. It was glorious, and only the thought that he might not be alone for long forced him to finally turn off the water and step out onto the stone floor. There were some soft, grey cloths on a shelf, which he used to dry himself. Ben was feeling more relaxed, but as he was drying, he heard a footstep outside his door and his heart leaped into his mouth. The footsteps passed, and Ben hurriedly pulled on his clothes, as well as a new pair of underwear from a shelf beside his new bed. 

His skin felt better anyway, but now that his shower was finished, Ben was once again out of things to do. He crossed to the door and listened, but there were no more footsteps. At least he could hear when someone was approaching his door. It made him feel slightly better, even though there wasn’t much he could do in response.

Sighing, Ben lent against the wall, supporting himself with one hand, only to land on the hard stone floor with a yelp. He sat up in confusion, rubbing at his shoulder and elbow where they had smacked the hard surface. He stood shakily and felt the wall; half expecting it to only be an illusion, but it was solid stone. Yet he remembered reaching out to place his hand on the wall. Maybe he was finally going crazy.

Ben turned from the wall abruptly, shaking off the incident as best he could, but he couldn’t get it out of his mind entirely, and when Vilgax returned what seemed about an hour later, it was almost a relief, enough so that Ben was able to force himself to follow again when his captor ordered.

As he was lead through the hallways once again, Ben reflected on how passive he’d become. Granted there wasn’t really anything else he could do, but it still bothered him. It wasn’t that he’d stopped resisting entirely, but more that his protests now felt so futile. He resisted, but with no hope of success. He sucked in a deep breath and tried to focus on watching the stone corridors they were passing, and on guessing where they might be headed. He truly had no idea what Vilgax’s new schedule for him might be, but he was not enormously surprised when they rounded a corner and ended up at another training arena. This one was oval like the fancy room he had seen earlier, and relatively austere, with only minor variations in the carved stone walls. The stone itself was pale green with irregular patches of grey.

As the heavy door rolled shut behind them, Ben felt an unaccountable excitement building in his chest. His first thought upon realizing where they were headed, had been to attempt resistance, as that seemed to be the only thing he could do that bothered Vilgax, yet now the thought had vanished. It had been so long since he’d changed! He shifted with impatience and the omnitrix felt warm on his wrist. Doors on the opposite wall slid up to reveal the robots which would be his ostensible opponents and Ben barely gave Vilgax a chance to utter the order before his hand flicked to the omnitrix, deftly twisting the device and then smacking down on the sensor. As he felt his bones rearrange themselves, split and grow, and his muscles swell and stretch to match, Ben felt the closest to joy he had experienced since his abduction. He threw himself forward, red, powerful legs pumping, each of his four arms reaching for the first of the unfortunate robots he had been matched against, and for a few minutes, it didn’t even matter why he was fighting.

For a _very_ few minutes.

It was over far too quickly. 

When the final robot fell to the floor in a sparking heap, Ben wanted to scream. He was panting, and he noticed that he must have been careless during the fight, because his tough, red skin was littered with cuts and growing bruises. Vilgax seemed to have noticed too. 

“Enough!” he snarled. His tentacles were quivering with anger, and normally he would have looked frightening, but Ben was still seeing red from the battle and wanted nothing more than to leap on his abuser and keep pounding until he was nothing but a smear on the ground. But he couldn’t. He clenched his four hands.

“No!” he growled back. “I can keep fighting!”

“I said ‘enough,’ child.” Vilgax’s voice was quieter, yet somehow even angrier. It seemed to shake some sense into Ben. He bit back his next argument, and his eyes dropped from Vilgax’s face. “Now, deactivate the omnitrix.” Vilgax ordered. His voice had softened slightly, seemingly accepting Ben’s motion as sufficient submission.

Ben’s fists clenched tighter. “I don’t know how,” he growled back, Fourarms’ gruff voice coming out more harshly than normal.

Vilgax seemed genuinely surprised. Ben glanced up again to see some of the tension leave his tentacles and those red eyes widen slightly. 

“Indeed?” he rasped softly, and then strode forward, closing the distance between himself and his captive, eyes on the green symbol on Ben’s chest. Ben watched his approach with dismay and felt his heart twist. Why couldn’t Vilgax just let him be until he turned back naturally? It wouldn’t be long in all probability. The events were a little blurry, but had a feeling he’d been Fourarms for quite a while. Vilgax reached out and Ben flinched away, but otherwise forced himself to remain still as the claw gently touched the Omnitrix’s symbol. Green light flashed and his bones compressed, arms melding together and skin shifting. 

When he was human again, Ben’s eyes found Vilgax’s. The alien was still uncomfortably close, red eyes narrowed at the omnitrix. The proximity reminded Ben of their last interaction in his room on the ship, and Ben felt an involuntary shiver pass through him. He stayed where he was, but kept an eye on his captor for any sudden movements. Whether it did any good or not he was getting out of here if Vilgax tried _that_ again.

“It appears that you need some basic training on how to control this device,” Vilgax growled, almost to himself. His eyes returned to Ben’s face, making the boy’s heart skip a beat, but merely said “You will return to your room for now. Tomorrow I will see what other ‘limitations’ you posses.”

Ben frowned at the implication, but watched the alien move away and toward the door with relief. It seemed he was safe for now. It was only when Vilgax growled for him to follow that Ben remembered the punishment he had taken during the fight. One ankle twinged when he took a step forward. His shoulder ached and his cheek felt swollen. He forced himself to ignore the aches and watched Vilgax as he walked to ensure that the alien didn’t notice them.

Only when he was alone again in his new room did he allow himself to collapse onto the bed. In a minute he would go to the sink and soak some of those cloths in cool water to try and sooth his burning ankle. For now he just felt…spent. The restlessness had faded somewhat and he didn’t want to move, or think or firm his resolve; he just wanted to forget.

What do you think?   
Yes, Crito-Ah is Swampfire’s home world, and yes, it has been conquered by Vilgax in this story. I have lots of great ideas for this planet, and you will be seeing some of them, as Ben will be staying here for a little while.  
I will see all of you soon!


	15. Realization

Shades of Self Chapter 15  
Disclaimer: It is not mine! However, I’m back to writing, so at least I can pretend again.  
Welcome back! We are getting tantalizingly close to seeing some of the scenes I have been dying to write from when I first began this story. My goal is to update something every week while I’m on summer break. Here is my first!  
Just a warning, I have upped the rating on this story to M. There will be some things in later chapters that require this rating, and I think the story was already hovering a little on the edge because of the content. I hope people will keep reading. I will try not to make it get too dark.  
Enjoy!

“If you are thrown off a cliff, you will fall to your death, but when the slope becomes steeper gradually it is easier to find claw holds, and even when the cliff is vertical, you may be able to climb.”  
\- _Proverbs of the Tenth Planet_ by Anang Ghet

Ben must have been dozing, because he started at the sudden opening of the door, sitting up hurriedly. It was only one of Vilgax’s robots. It carried a covered tray with what was probably his supper, and a small, silver box. The robot set the tray and the box on a shelf by Ben’s bed, and then exited silently. Ben glared at its back until the door closed, then he sighed and ran one hand through his hair. He stopped when his fingers found the smooth metal of his collar. He didn’t snatch his hand away this time, but slowly worked his fingers around it, then pulled, gently at first, then with increasing force until he could feel it pressing hard against the vertebrae at the back of his neck. 

That tight feeling was starting to build in his chest again, so he rose and approached the tray, more for something to do than because he was actually hungry. His ankle seemed to have swollen while he was resting, and he had to hobble rather than walk. When he reached the stone shelf he lent on it gratefully while he examined its contents. His eyes focused on the silver box, and he picked it up gingerly. The lid unclasped easily and he saw that it was almost full of some kind of white cream. It had a distinct antiseptic scent to it, a little like the med bay on Vilgax’s ship.

_Guess I wasn’t as good at hiding my injuries as I thought._

Ben sighed. He had a choice to make now. Vilgax hadn’t told him to use the cream, so he could just leave it in the box and pretend he hadn’t realized what it was for. His other option was to use it, and hope that it brought some relief to his ankle, as well as the dozen other scrapes and bruises his aching body attested to. Gently he lowered himself until he was sitting and stretched his leg out in front of him. 

Would Vilgax even care if he used it? More importantly, did he really want to be feeling like this when the alien returned? No. He pulled himself together. He needed to be strong. He needed to remember that he was trying to escape. He couldn’t run with his ankle like this, and he needed to run if an opportunity arose. The thought that running was now impossible wriggled into his head and he pushed it away angrily. Maybe he could find a way to short-circuit the collar or something. He couldn’t risk being injured if that happened. 

He stuck a finger in the cream, which felt cold on his skin, and gingerly applied it to the tender areas of his ankle. It relieved the pain immediately, and the swelling seemed to subside. Encouraged, Ben repeated the application with the various bruises and scrapes that littered the rest of him. It helped to pass the time, and when Ben had finished and washed the excess cream off of his hands, he found that he was actually feeling a little hungry.

Supper was slight variations of what he had been eating since his capture, but he was able to get it down without too much difficulty. Then he found that his skin was feeling dry again, and his jaw was hurting, although he was sure it wasn’t from the fight. He rubbed at the phantom aches idly as he sat on the bed. There was nothing to do now, and he found himself staring at the omnitrix as though he could activate it by sheer force of will. He needed to change. The few minutes where he had been Four-Arms earlier hadn’t been nearly enough. He felt trapped in his own skin and he rose to pace, to try to relieve the feeling somewhat. 

His ankle felt better, but he was tired, and he only succeeded in making himself dizzy. His room felt small and cramped. At last he collapsed back onto the bed. He didn’t know what time it was, but it must be fairly late by now. He thought the supper delivery had been a few hours ago, although it was very hard to tell without a clock. Ben’s head felt heavy and tired, but his body felt twitchy, and he couldn’t get his eyes to close. His gaze kept wandering back to the omnitrix until he groaned and threw his arm over his face. He hoped sleep would find him. He wanted this day to be over.

Ben snapped his eyes open. It was dark in his room, though it seemed to be gradually lightening. His breathing was fast and his heart was pounding in his chest, but he couldn’t remember what he had been dreaming about. He sat up and pushed back the covers, then paused in a moment of déjà vu. Had he covered himself before going to sleep? He didn’t remember doing so, but he didn’t remember dropping off either. It had been a restless night, full of tossing and turning, and he supposed he might have pulled his covers up at some point in the night. His feet rubbed together, and he realized that he wasn’t wearing his boots either. Ben swallowed thickly. He hadn’t taken them off. He was _sure_ he hadn’t. 

Ben glanced suspiciously at the door. It was closed tightly, but that meant nothing. He let his eyes track slowly around his room, squinting to try and see in the darkness. He couldn’t see anyone, but the worry hadn’t gone away. Had his captor sent one of the robots into his room to tuck him in, or had Vilgax himself been in here? Even knowing his position; even knowing that Vilgax could do anything he wanted to him, the thought that the alien might have been in here while he was sleeping was terrifying, and Ben found himself trying to rationalize it away. Maybe he was imagining things. After all, what possible reason could Vilgax have for sneaking into his room at night and covering him up while he slept? Still, that line of logic didn’t really work when he couldn’t find rational reasons for half of the things Viglax was doing to him. 

Gingerly, as though they were burning hot, Ben pushed the blankets off of the edge of his bed, kicking one last time until they lay crumpled on the stone floor. Then, feeling only marginally better, he curled up again on the mattress. He didn’t close his eyes, but kept them fixed on the innocently closed door. He lay for a while like that, half dozing, then snapping back to wakefulness. He wanted to be awake if anyone came in, but it was hard to focus. The room had gone dark again now that he was lying still, and he could no longer pick out the features of the room. His jaw was hurting again, and the skin of his neck felt tender as though the collar might be rubbing it. It also seemed to be too warm in the room, the air too dry. He felt too restless to fall asleep again, even if he had wanted to, yet he was too tired to do anything but lie there and let the time pass, so that was what he did.

Ben’s only awareness of morning was the gradual lightening of his room. He had dozed a few times during the remainder of the night, but it had not been nearly enough, and he felt drowsy, his eyes puffy and tired. At least no one had come into his room again. He yawned and sat up slowly, allowing his legs to swing over the side of his bed. The restless feeling had not gone away during the night. If anything it had intensified. He couldn’t stay in bed any longer. 

Ben stood gingerly, relaxing when the pain from his ankle did not return. It felt chilly in the room this morning, and Ben rubbed his arms absently. Maybe the stone walls weren’t as well insulated as those on the ship. He supposed it made sense; the swampfire aliens didn’t seem like they would have trouble staying warm, and he _had_ seen a lot of fireplaces in his brief tour, although there wasn’t one in this room, sadly. 

He shot a glance at the foot of his bed, where the blankets were still innocently lying. His boots, he noticed, had been placed neatly off to the side, where he certainly wouldn’t have thought to leave them, even if he had taken them off before lying down. 

Doing his best to dismiss the implications from his mind, Ben cast around mentally for something to do. If it was as early in the morning as it felt, he likely had a little time to himself before Vilgax came for him. He glanced down at himself, and noticed that the black shirt and pants he was wearing were dusty and stained in several places. The early time reassured him, but he still kept an eye on the door while he changed. There were several spare sets of the dull, black clothes on a stone shelf in the bathroom, and Ben mused darkly that at least he wouldn’t have to waste time selecting an outfit. He dumped the dirty clothes in a corner of the bathroom. There was no laundry basket that he could find.

Once he was dressed, he had a long drink from the faucet in the bathroom. His neck still felt tender at the sides, and he tried to have a look at it in the small mirror by pulling his collar down and as far away from his neck as it would go. The skin looked fine from what he could see. He wondered suddenly if the collar would leave a mark around his neck, the way a ring leaves a line around a finger when you wear it for too long. He shook his head. It didn’t matter. He would get it off before that.

Ben walked back into the main part of his room listlessly. The restlessness was starting to build again and he found himself running his fingers over the omnitrix, imagining how it would be if he activated it. He remembered the thrill of the change, the feeling of being himself, and yet _so much more._ He could almost imagine his skin hardening into scales, his skull enlarging and his jaw swelling outward. He sighed and forced his hand back to his side, and his eyes to another part of the barren room. 

The sound of approaching footsteps caught his attention. It sounded like metal feet clinking against the stone corridor, and was definitely too light to be Viglax. Ben was once again glad for the thinner walls. The door was pulled open to reveal another robot with his ‘breakfast’. Ben glared at it until it left, leaving the metal casserole dish behind it and taking his supper dish back with it. Then his face fell, and he ran a hand through his hair. He supposed he should eat. 

There was nothing else to do. 

By the time Vilgax came for him Ben was figuratively climbing the walls. What he was actually doing was sitting in front of his door, listening for approaching footsteps. A few people had passed by without coming in, and Ben mused that he must be in a more populated area than his room on the ship. It felt like it had been hours since he had woken up, and he had had nothing to do but stare at the bland stone walls and fidget. When he finally heard the heavy, purposeful tromp of his captor, Ben felt an unpleasant combination of relief and dread. He stood quickly and backed up so that it hopefully didn’t look as though he had been waiting. He didn’t want Vilgax to know how desperate he was for absolutely anything to do. He also felt a slight trickle of anticipation. Vilgax had mentioned bringing him back to the training room today, which meant he would get to change. He clenched his hands and forced himself to glare at the door as it was slid open.

Vilgax seemed fairly relaxed this morning, tentacles languid and droopy, with only the tips twitching lightly. The red eyes scanned the room before focusing on Ben’s face. He paused for a moment, and Ben wondered if the alien could see how tired he looked. While trying to see his neck in the mirror this morning, he’d noticed that he was developing some dark bags under his eyes. No surprise given last night.

“Come boy,” Vilgax ordered. Ben’s frown darkened but he walked to the door anyway. Going anywhere that wasn’t this small, lonely, boring room sounded pretty good right now.  
Ben halted when he was a couple of feet away, confused that Vilgax hadn’t turned away and started walking. He saw the muscles tense in the alien’s arm and had only an instant to realize what it meant. He tried to move, but knew he wasn’t going to be fast enough. The clawed hand shot out and Ben yelped as it wrapped around his torso. _Not again!_

“No no no! Let me _go!_ ” Ben thrashed, kicking and scratching at his captor, painfully aware that it wasn’t making a difference. As before he was lifted easily and held against the alien’s massive chest. Ben’s own chest was heaving with panicked breaths. His eyes stung with the beginnings of helpless tears, but he forced them back, twisting as well as he could in the alien’s grip. He paused in his struggles gradually; knuckles white as his hands clutched Vilgax’s clawed hand. He shivered as Vilgax’s other hand came closer. Metal encased fingers touched his back between his shoulder blades and began to rub gently up and down. Ben tried to pull away, but was held so firmly that he could barely move.

“That’s it,” Vilgax growled softly, and Ben flinched. “Just relax, little one. I won’t hurt you.” _Like hell!_ Ben started struggling again, squirming and pulling at the large fingers that were wrapped around him. Nothing. He might as well have been a mouse fighting a lion. Even as Diamondhead and Fourarms he hadn’t been able to hurt the monster. What chance did he have now? He twitched again as the hand ran over his head and stroked down his back a final time. Then he was lowered to the floor and Vilgax released him.  
Ben’s knees gave and he found himself sitting on the floor. He wrapped his arms around himself and glared up at his captor with a mix of fury and fear. Vilgax’s tentacles twitched and Ben scrambled backward, pulling himself to his feet. He wanted to be out of range in case the alien changed his mind and grabbed for him again. The feeling of helplessness was overwhelming. 

“What do you _want?_ ” he found himself demanding, the panic in his voice making it almost a scream. “Why are you doing this to me? You can’t just drag me around and play your sick games with me. I’m your enemy; I’m not your stupid toy!”

Vilgax’s tentacles rippled again. He seemed almost amused. He took a step towards the boy, prompting Ben to take one back. Seeing his reaction, Vilgax knelt, almost as though he were trying not to frighten Ben away. His eyes were slits of fire, intensely focused on Ben’s face, but his voice was very soft when he spoke.

“Do you remember what I told you in the storage room, boy?” Ben winced. Of course he remembered. “You are not my enemy, and I am not yours. You belong to me now and I will take care of you. I told you before; I’m not going to hurt you, and you cannot hurt me. You are so unhappy because you are still trying to fight me. You will find it much more pleasant when you obey.” 

It was the longest speech Ben had heard from Vilgax in a long time, and it was the most frightening thing the alien had ever done to him. As he listened, it felt as though liquid nitrogen was being pumped through his bloodstream, chilling him from the inside out. His hands were clenched tightly around his forearms, the nails digging into his skin painfully. There was a block of ice in his throat, sealing off his voice. There was nothing he could say; no denials, no snide remarks, no furious retorts. 

When Vilgax finished speaking there was silence in the room. The alien was still staring at him, studying the expression of helpless terror that was probably clearly etched on his face. Then he stood. 

“You will get used to it,” Vilgax told Ben gently. “Now come. It is time for your training.” He walked back to the doorway and turned slightly, waiting.

Ben’s heart was pounding in his ears. The ice in his veins seemed to be thawing, leaving nothing to mask the true terror he was feeling. He did not want to follow this monster, did not want to be anywhere near him right now. He wanted to go home. He wanted to wake up in his own bed, in his own messy room and have his parents come in to reassure him that this was all just a nightmare.

But that was never going to happen.

This wasn’t a nightmare, it was reality, and as Ben’s fearful gaze landed on Vilgax waiting in the doorway, he knew that if he was commanded to follow; if his control over his own body was ripped away again, he would break down and lose the faltering control he had over his own emotions. And Ben knew that even now, he couldn’t let Vilgax see him like that.

Slowly, eyes on the alien, Ben took a few steps closer to the door. Once Vilgax saw that he was coming, the alien turned away from him and continued walking. Ben found it easier to keep going without Vilgax watching him, and he gingerly unclenched his hands, rubbing his arms where his fingernails had dug into the soft flesh. He kept his eyes on the floor as they walked, and focused on breathing evenly. Horror was still pooling in his gut, keeping his chest tight and making breathing almost painful. Vilgax’s words were running through his mind no matter how he wished to forget them, even for a moment. 

_At least I know I was wrong with what I said before_ , Ben mused darkly. He wasn’t Vilgax’s toy; the alien was turning him into his pet.

They rounded a corner, and Ben found himself back at the training arena from yesterday. His steps became slightly less and his breathing steadied. Once again his desire to use the omnitrix pushed itself to the forefront of his mind, and it was easier to ignore the main source of his anguish. He followed Vilgax into the arena and waited as the alien slid the door closed. He expected an order to morph, but was disappointed.

“Hold out your hand,” Vilgax ordered, confusing Ben for a moment before he remembered. After training yesterday, Vilgax had been annoyed that Ben didn’t know how to deactivate the watch. He had talked about ‘checking for limitations.’ Ben hesitated. He really didn’t want the alien near him after what just happened. Vilgax had already started walking towards him, rapidly closing the gap, and Ben found himself backing up in response.

“Stay,” Vilgax ordered, clearly annoyed. Ben forced himself to halt his feet, clenching his fist as his recent realization gave the order an additional humiliating connotation. He tensed as the alien drew close. Vilgx knelt again and glanced meaningfully at Ben’s left arm, still by his side. Hesitantly, Ben extended it. He couldn’t stop a flinch as the clawed hand came towards him again, and only the thought of being able to use the omnitrix soon kept him still as Vilgax’s left and closed over his own. The alien turned Ben’s wrist slightly so he had a better view of the watch’s screen, then Vilgax’s right hand reached out, one finger gently tapping the center of the glowing symbol.

“Now,” Vilgax murmured, as though to himself, “we will see what settings I need to change.” The omnitrix’s screen flashed bright green for an instant, then shifted to show a screen filled with some kind of alien text next to what looked like several graphs showing who knew what. Ben cocked his head slightly so he could see better, but he kept one eye on Vilgax, who was much too close for comfort. No matter how interesting this was, he would be glad when it was over. Until then, he would just have to wait.

I have been moving to do more of the past sections from Ben’s point of view, as I am finding that his matches the tone and feeling I am going for better. There are still some scenes I plan to do from Vilgax’s point of view, just not as many as in the early chapters. Because this is a story that I planned out extensively in terms of plot, it is sometimes hard to get from one plot point to another in a believable way. I am sorry if I have too much description and introspection and not enough time jumps, but I don’t know that I really want to speed up the story too much. It is really important to me that I show Ben’s transition in a believable way, and I hope it is at least plausible.   
One of the scenes in this chapter gave me a lot of trouble. Can you guess which one?  
See you all next time! We are nearing a scene I’ve had planned for ages and next chapter’s going to be a doozy!


	16. Rising Tension

Shades of Self chapter 16  
Disclaimer: I do not own Ben 10, but maybe someday…   
Welcome to the next chapter everybody!   
Over March Break I started reading One Piece and then I couldn’t stop, and when I caught up I made my husband start watching the show with me. It inspired me and got me writing again. I’m going to keep it going after the summer’s over. I really missed it!  
My goal for the summer is a chapter of something every week. So far I have easily kept up with this. It may get harder and I may miss a week or two, but I will do my best. Once September gets here my goal will be a chapter per month. I will work to keep that goal. I don’t want to disappear again!  
Enjoy the chapter!

“Every substance in the universe has some measure of give to it, the ability to stretch to some extent under pressure, but if stretched beyond its limits, even the most flexible material will snap.”  
\- Xann Qrentarus, Zithsian engineer

Four Years Ago

To Ben’s inexperienced eye, it looked like Vilgax was just pressing random symbols, though he certainly seemed to know what he was doing. The screen on the omnitrix changed obligingly at each tap of the alien’s claws, and even among the hurricane his emotions had become, Ben found himself feeling annoyed that Vilgax knew so much more about the watch than he did. How exactly had the alien figured out the internal workings of this extremely rare device? 

As he watched, Ben found a question pushing its way insistently into his thoughts. It was a question he had asked before, but could find no answer to. Why was Vilgax doing this to him? Yes, he thought he had figured out _what_ the alien was trying to do to him, as horrifying as that was, but _why?_ What had happened to the plans Vilgax had gloated to him about the first time he was captured? What had happened to the army Vilgax had wanted to build? Had he discovered that he wouldn’t be able to multiply the omnitrix after all? Maybe the device couldn’t be reproduced. But when had the alien even made this discovery? The watch had never been off of Ben’s wrist, and the monster had shown no interest in examining it before today.

Ben started as Vilgax gave the screen a final tap, and the omnitrix changed, emitting a shimmering, yellow-green light for a moment, before returning to its original appearance. Vilgax released Ben’s wrist, but did not rise. Instead, his red eyes sought out Ben’s again. Ben could feel his heart-rate pick up as he met the alien’s gaze. 

“You may only use the omnitrix at my order,” Vilgax rasped. Ben tensed at the command. He had given a command similar to this one already, but maybe the creep wanted to be extra careful after messing with the watch. 

“I know,” he found himself answering bitterly. Perhaps the alien had gotten used to him not answering back. Vilgax’s tentacles flexed at the words as though the alien was annoyed, but he didn’t respond. He continued as though Ben had not spoken.

“The omnitrix was set on training mode; that is why you needed to activate it manually, and could only activate it for a limited amount of time. I have inputted Master Control. You will be able to activate the omnitrix and switch between forms with a mental direction. The omnitrix will also no longer time out. When training is over you will be able to deactivate it the same way.” 

The rough voice quieted and Vilgax looked in a measuring way at Ben. Ben nodded stiffly. He was trying not to show the strange mix of excitement and despair he was feeling. Being able to switch between aliens instantly sounded amazing! That feature would have saved his butt in fights on a daily basis, but what use was it right now? He was a prisoner. He couldn’t even use the watch unless his enemy dictated it, and it was never for long enough. He shifted his feet impatiently. The need to change was so strong his breathing quickened.

As if sensing his desire, the alien stood finally and moved away, activating the switches on the wall which opened the doors and let in Ben’s robotic opponents. Ben watched Vilgax, anticipating the order to morph, burning for it. When it came he didn’t waste a second. His hand started to move towards the omnitrix out of habit, but the thought of the alien he wanted was already in his mind, and the glorious flash of green engulfed him before the hand could move more than a centimetre. He felt his body stretch, skin turning scaly and tough as he sprouted webbing. His jaw and eyes swelled and gills flicked open on his neck. He couldn’t stay as Ripjaws for very long without water of course, but if Vilgax was telling the truth than he wouldn’t have to, and he could certainly stay in this form long enough to rip off some robot heads.

He leaped into battle. The urge was there to simply fight, to fling himself at his opponents headlong; to get the most out of the omnitrix for as long as he was allowed to use it, but the thought of the hurts he had suffered last time flashed through his mind, and Ben slowed down slightly, allowing himself to be aware of the attacks he was receiving, rather than just dishing out his own. He ducked under the swipe of a metal blade, than sunk powerful teeth into the robot’s chest plate, tearing it off and exposing the internal circuitry. A kick from his right foot damaged the robot’s internals, and it fell, sparking. By this time Ben was already dodging laser blasts from two other robots. A grin stretched across his widened mouth, and he felt like laughing from pure exhilaration. He weaved between the shots, landing on first one robot, than the other, pulling and swiping at the metal and wires where heads connected to necks until they gave with a screech of tearing metal. 

As he moved away from the now headless combatants, he noticed that it was getting difficult to draw his breath in the dry air; time to try out that new feature. It was amazing. As soon as the thought entered his head, his body was already shifting. Wings unfurled from his back, limbs pulling apart as eyestalks sprouted from his face. He blinked once, adjusting to the change in his eyesight, than Stinkfly’s wings buzzed and he was airborne, barely avoiding two metal scythes coming at him from opposite sides. 

It felt so easy, so _right_ to shift like this. It was like this was how he was always meant to be. He felt the pure joy pumping through him with every beat of his heart. This, _this_ was what he wanted, what he _needed._ Ben spat goo at three robots in quick succession, sticking one to the floor and short circuiting the others as the sticky substance worked itself into their joints. As he dived back towards another group he shifted again, landing on them as Diamondhead. His hands sharpened into blades and he surged forward, cutting through his attackers as though they were made of butter. 

Vilgax must be watching him, but for once Ben didn’t care. He sliced his way through another robot, melting into upgrade and engulfing the final one of the group, than turning and firing his newly acquired lasers at the new robots which were approaching. A few of their returning blasts hit his borrowed shoulder, forcing upgrade to retract a bit from the injured area, but not before three of the nearest robots had fallen. He slipped off his metallic host and flickered into XLR8, then flashed forward, smashing the heads of two robots together with a shower of sparks. They fell and he sent another one after them with a tail swipe to the head.

As Ben looked up from the tangled pile of metal he saw something which brought his good mood crashing down again. The remains of his opponents littered the arena, sparking or twitching slightly, but no longer in any condition to fight, and no more robots were emerging from the walls. The fight was over.

Despair coiled icily in his stomach. _No,_ he cried internally. This _couldn’t_ be it. He couldn’t have been fighting for more than five minutes. His eyes shot to Vilgax as the alien took a single step towards him.

“That’s enough. Change back.” The expected order filled Ben with a kind of panicky despair. 

“No,” he retorted desperately. “Just let me stay for a few more minutes.”

Vilgax’s tentacles flexed in anger, but he did not reply. He looked pointedly at Ben and stood there, waiting. Ben flicked his tail in agitation and his breathing was rapid and panicky. He didn’t want to change back, to be locked out of the omnitrix again. He didn’t want to go back that small, boring room, where he would be left until Vilgax wanted him again. His whole being cried out against changing back. His eyes were locked on the alien’s, and he knew he was running out of time before Vilgax commanded him to change.  
Ben suppressed a shiver at the thought of the command, but even thinking about what it would feel like, he found he couldn’t bring himself to change back. At least this way he would be able to use the omnitrix for a few more moments. He dropped his gaze from Vilgax’s burning eyes, but he still felt the moment when the alien grew tired of waiting.

“Change back.” 

At the command, Ben closed his eyes behind his visor. He changed in a flash of green light, and as soon as he had shrunk and twisted back into his human form the feeling of being trapped in his body crept over him again, stronger than before, as though it had been exacerbated by the brief feeling of freedom. He felt tears building behind his eyes and bit the inside of his lip to keep them back.

Viglax seemed annoyed again at Ben’s disobedience, but all he did was order Ben to follow him. The walk back was silent. They arrived at the familiar room after only a few minutes and Ben watched as the door closed him in. He felt like his heart was breaking. He stared around the small, Spartan space in hatred. His skin still felt tight and he was so jittery. He had had a brief time to morph, but it had not been nearly enough. He needed to change for longer; needed, needed, _needed_ it. Why didn’t Vilgax understand that if he supposedly knew so much about the omnitrix? Or maybe he did understand, and this was just another way to torture him.

It must still be morning. How was he supposed to get through another day like this? Another day _and_ night. He shuddered. The walls felt like they were closing in on him. He felt a sudden urge to scream or pound on the walls, but he wouldn’t. He couldn’t let himself give in to the feeling; couldn’t let himself break down again. Slowly, Ben began to pace, back and forth from one end of the small room to the other. He paced and paced, and when he couldn’t bear to pace any longer he took a long shower. When he was dry and dressed in a new set of black clothes which were still not his, he started pacing again. 

It must have been several hours later, although still well before the robots would bring dinner, that his captor decided to visit him again. Ben wasn’t expecting it. He had thought Vilgax was finished with him for the day. He was lying on his bed with his feet up against wall and his head hanging over the side, upside down. He was pulling idly at his collar; tugging it away from his neck and then letting go, than grabbing it and pulling again. 

When he heard the heavy footsteps outside his door, Ben started and sat up sharply. He didn’t have time to rise further before the stone door was opened. Vilgax stood in the opening, seemingly relaxed, tentacles drooping languidly, but Ben could never tell for sure. He met the alien’s eyes and felt his skin crawl. Why was Vilgax here? It wasn’t time to train. He wasn’t going to…grab him again, was he?

“Come with me Ben,” the alien ordered. “I want to show you something.”

That was new, Ben supposed. He slid cautiously off of the bed, loathe to obey and follow Vilgax, but hating to stay where he was even more. At least going with his captor meant he was doing something, and it wasn’t as though he had a choice in the matter.

They walked in a different direction this time, down a separate set of hallways, so at least Ben had something new to look at. The changing scenery was at least a little distracting from his tension and unpleasant thoughts. After a few minutes of walking through cool, green stone corridors they entered a long, wide hall. For the third time on this planet, Ben felt a sense of awe at his surroundings. Intricate stone carvings were etched along both sides of the hall, and when he looked down Ben could see that the floor was carved as well. Strange designs, reminiscent of plant life and flickering flames were intertwining down the path ahead. Gleaming fires of red and purple in deep stone basins lined the carved walls, and the firelight reflected gently off of small, glittery gemstones which seemed to have been worked into the carvings at irregular intervals. 

At the end of the hall was a large, stone door, carved with the likeness of a great tree. The tree was fully leafed, but a trident carved from deep red stone seemed to have been thrust into its very heart. Vilgax opened the door and entered. Ben followed the alien through the door, confused and somewhat apprehensive. The heavy stone slid closed behind him and he jumped.

It was misty inside. The air was sweet and cool and slightly opaque, heavy with minuscule water droplets. Ben blinked. Were they outside? They were standing in a large, oblong chamber constructed of red stone shot with quartz, but one curved wall simply seemed to be missing. Through the opening, he could see what looked like a pond surrounded by trees. Watery sun shone down on the vision. Ben took several involuntary steps forward through the damp air, but when he was close enough, he could see that the section of wall was merely transparent, not missing. It was about five metres wide and easily that tall. The section of wall was clearer than window class, but there was a suggestion of something being there, and he could feel no air movement from the opening. It was a window.

Glancing around at the rest of the space, Ben noticed what looked like alien furniture and fixtures; a huge, leathery couch-like thing against one wall, stone shelves built seamlessly into the sides of the room and what looked like an ornately carved stone desk. Aside from the window, light came from what looked like glowing crystals in sconces on the wall. A large doorway on the room’s right side lead into another room, though it was unlit and Ben could not discern details.

“These are my private chambers, boy.” Ben’s attention snapped back to Vilgax at the large alien’s words. He tensed as what Vilgax had said sunk in and eyed his captor nervously. This couldn’t lead to anything good.

“Why did you bring me here?” Ben asked. His voice sounded strange in his ears, and was it just him or had he been talking a lot less lately? Most of the time Vilgax seemed to get angry when he spoke, or straight out ignored him, but this time the alien seemed willing to answer the question, at least partially.

“I wanted to show them to you,” Vilgax said, in the quiet growl he had had this morning. He shot a piercing look at Ben, who hunched his shoulders at the scrutiny. “Are you having difficulty sleeping?”

Ben glared. “That’s none of your business!” His retort was loud, not quite a shout, and he tried not to wince. He knew it would make Vilgax angry. He stared at the monster in apprehension. Vilgax’s tentacles tensed. The alien took two slow steps towards Ben. Ben took one back, shakily. 

“Are you having difficulty sleeping?” Vilgax asked again. His voice was harsher this time, warning Ben not to press his luck. Ben swallowed. There was a pause, and then Ben’s eyes flickered down from the alien’s face.

“Yes,” he whispered. 

Vilgax’s tentacles relaxed, than he crouched down so that he was closer to Ben’s height, though still towering. He gestured at the apartment around them with one hand. His voice had returned to a quiet growl when he spoke. “Now that you know where they are, if you are unable to sleep, you may come here if you wish.”

Ben looked up sharply, startled. His gaze met Vilgax’s as he searched the alien’s face for the reasons behind the statement. He almost said _‘why would I want to do that?’_ but didn’t. The truth was he didn’t know how to react, or even what Vilgax’s offer made him feel. He knew he was frightened at the idea, and suspicious of why his captor would allow this. He couldn’t imagine being desperate enough to take him up on it, but…. He shook the thought away before it could fully form. No coherent answers formed in his mind and he remained tongue tied until Vilgax rose back to his feet and once again ordered him to follow.

Back in his room.

Ben ran a hand through his hair. It occurred to him that he was spending far too much time on his own with no way to escape his building anxiety and restlessness, and no reprieve from his thoughts which had taken far too dark a turn lately. Of course, there wasn’t much he could do about that. He had no agency over his own schedule after all. He wished he could think of a way to escape, or even a way to fight back, but there were simply no options open to him. You had to hand it to Vilgax this time. Ben was well and truly trapped. Caught. Caged.

He shook his head violently to drive out that line of thinking.

He was sitting on his bed again, leaning against the cool stone wall. His mind wandered back to his most recent encounter with Vilgax. Aside from homesickness and despair, Ben was pretty sure that he wasn’t sleeping because he wasn’t morphing enough. It was the only thing that explained the constantly increasing restlessness which plagued him. His mind wandered to the omnitrix constantly and he felt imprisoned in his own body. It was like an itch inside him that wouldn’t go away. If Vilgax knew why Ben wasn’t sleeping he could have easily fixed the problem, unless he was doing it on purpose and he wanted Ben to feel this way.

Ben frowned uneasily. Why would Vilgax give Ben the option of coming to his rooms if he couldn’t sleep? It was like something your parents said when you were little and afraid of monsters in your closet. Except he knew Vilgax at least enough to know the alien hadn’t offered out of the goodness of his heart. There must be an ulterior motive or a trap he would be walking into. Only he wouldn’t walk into it, because he wasn’t going to go. It wasn’t like he _wanted_ to purposefully spend more time with Vilgax anyway, so it shouldn’t even be a problem.

Ben inhaled deeply, letting the breath out at a measured pace. He was leaning against one wall, arms crossed, head tilted back so he could look up at the high, stone ceiling above him. The restlessness was gnawing at him again. He rubbed his arms unconsciously, tapped his fingers against each other. When it got too much he would stand and pace again, crossing and re-crossing the meager space he had been given.

By the time evening came Ben was exhausted. He had eaten supper unenthusiastically. He hadn’t felt hungry and his stomach was tense and knotted, but he had forced himself to finish all of it. He had taken another shower, letting the pounding heat of the water wash over him, hoping it would sooth some of his tension. He had even tried to do some push-ups, just to get the sensation of moving. Nothing worked. He couldn’t do the one thing that he knew would make him feel better. After a few hours he had tried lying down in bed; tried to sleep even though he knew the restlessness wouldn’t let him. He had lain in the dark, eyes blinking open intermittently for perhaps an hour or two, than he couldn’t bare it any more and dragged his tired body out of bed.

Now he sat on the floor, back against the stone slab that held his bed, knees pulled up to his chest. Ben’s head felt fuzzy, eyes burning from exhaustion. As long as he was upright, the lights seemed to stay on. Ben’s eyes drooped closed, but snapped open again after a minute. He yawned and stretched; arms above his head. He glanced towards the door, than away again, angry at himself.

The problem was that Vilgax’s offer was looking more attractive all the time. It wasn’t the relief he needed, but being given the choice to leave his room and go anywhere else sounded amazing, even if his captor was there waiting for him. He swallowed, pulling his gaze away from the door again. 

The rout to Vilgax’s rooms was simple. He knew he could find them again. _And do what exactly?_ Ben sighed. He stood and tried lying back on his bed, closing his eyes and trying to breathe deeply. This lasted only about fifteen minutes before he swung his legs of the side of the bed in frustration and walked over to the door. He hesitated with his hand on the handle. He didn’t want to go to Vilgax, especially because that was probably what the alien wanted, but now that he had a way to leave his room he couldn’t stand to stay here any longer.

Still, maybe there was a loophole of sorts. He supposed he could just walk down there and then come back. Maybe the walk would help him sleep, and Vilgax hadn’t said he had to go inside. Slowly, Ben pulled on the handle, gently sliding the door open. 

He felt a little thrill as he stepped out into the stone corridor, a tiny rush of excitement and exhilaration. It had been so long since he’d been outside his room by himself; not since his unsuccessful escape attempt on the ship. Ben’s chest ached a little at the memory and a sudden wave of hatred for the monster controlling his life washed over him. He let it subside, keeping his breaths deep and even. Then he glanced down the long corridor, lit gently by the sconces on the walls and felt that little trickle of excitement return. He started walking, taking his time and trailing the fingers of one hand along the smooth stone.

At the very least, this would help to pass the time.

How was my fight scene? They are always tough to write.  
Now we see what Vilgax was doing to the omnitrix. The episode ‘Back With A Vengeance’ did not happen in the canon of this story, but the Master Control feature is great, and it has returned here. It is obviously already active in present day chapters, as present day Ben has not been touching the omnitrix to change. There are a few other settings that have been activated in present day, and we will see more of them soon.  
I hope this chapter did not seem rushed. I summarized Ben’s unpleasant day a little. It’s a shame for Ben that he couldn’t do the same. Besides, I needed to save some description for Vilgax’s room.  
And man, Vilgax had a lot to say this chapter! I hope he was believable, and I hope Ben was believable as well. Poor kid’s going through a lot right now.  
There will probably be a present day chapter coming after this, if anyone misses 14 year old Ben, the rascal! After that, we’ll go back to the past, and we will finally see one of my favourite scenes!  
See you next chapter!


	17. Unsettled

Shades Of Self Chapter 17  
Disclaimer: I do not own Ben 10. I don’t even own a Ben 10 poster or anything. How sad is that?  
Thank you so much to everyone who is still reading. It’s so nice to see familiar faces now I’m back at writing. I’m so grateful for all of the reviews you send. It’s wonderful that people are enjoying my story.  
Yay, present day for a bit! It’s been quite a while since we’ve had a present day chapter, so I’m sorry about that. There’s just so much to write about in the past. My present day chapters tend to be shorter than my others, but you will get a new chapter soon and I’m so excited to share it!  
Enjoy the return of that adorable scamp, 14 year old Ben! If you want a refresher, feel free to reread the present day chapters: chapters 1, 3 and 12.  
See you at the bottom!

“My life may be harsh and full of strife, but it is the only one I have”  
\- A common saying on the planet Crito-Ah

Present Day

The _Antarasin_ was a bustle of activity. The recent boarding, though neutralized, had brought attention to some holes in the ship’s security, which needed to be patched. Security measures were being checked and rechecked and personnel were being inspected. Engineers were going over the technical aspects of the ship to ensure that no sabotage had been attempted. It was also possible that other ships in the fleet had suffered undetected intruders, and all of the ships needed to be contacted and inspected. In addition to this, and given the status of the prisoners who had been apprehended, the warlord’s forces needed to prepare for possible rescue attempts by the alliance or even an attack. The hallways were full of busy crewmembers inspecting every inch of the huge flagship.

Ben paced through the metal corridors purposefully. Having secured Gwen in her new cell, he was enjoying a quick patrol around the ship. It always relaxed his nerves to make sure that everything was in order and functioning properly, and his encounter with the prisoners had left him feeling somewhat unsettled.

He was a patrolling as a mira; long, cat-like body supported by six legs with padded paws. Two tails swayed slightly behind him as we walked. His fur was deep burgundy red, and large silver eyes looked languidly out of the feline face. It was good form; agile and silent, and Ben enjoyed using it for patrols. Crewmembers focused on what they were doing as he passed, noticing, but not acknowledging him. Ben let his eyes trail over them, searching for quickened breath, or other signs of spies, but ignoring them in turn. His sensitive nose twitched as he scented the air. Everything was as it should be, but he still felt ruffled. 

He couldn’t get the prisoners out of his mind. When he had noticed them creeping through the hallways, he had captured them alive because it had been possible, and they likely had information Master would want. He could only assume that they would be alive for a while longer, for that reason or others, but he couldn’t help wishing Master had just let him kill them. They were occupying his thoughts and making it difficult to achieve the clarity of thoughts and emotions he usually enjoyed. 

He wished they had never seen him in his human form. He felt that it had put him on the wrong foot in his interactions with them. They had known him in his previous life, and their expectations and knowledge of his was worrying. What was worse was the reaction he had Gwen when he had been escorting her to her new cell. He had spoken to her; actually responded to what she was saying. He wasn’t supposed to do that. It wasn’t something he had ever wanted to do before. The exchange had been brief, but that was no excuse. Ben sighed internally. He knew he would feel better once his Master ordered their deaths and this whole thing was over. 

A thought trickled into his head, unbidden, that if the prisoners were valuable enough to the alliance, perhaps Master would trade them instead. Prisoners of war had been traded back and fourth several times before during the war. Ben might not need to kill them at all. He brushed the thought away, annoyed at himself. He’d learned long ago not to dwell on things he had no control over, and not to hope for the outcome he would prefer. He was happier just taking events as they came. Too much investment in things which probably wouldn’t happen just made him discontented when they didn’t. 

Ben paused, tails flicking in frustration. He had patrolled the whole ship and yet he still felt this way, as if something were wrong, even though he knew it wasn’t. His chest felt slightly tight and his mind wouldn’t settle. Abruptly turning, Ben padded swiftly down the corridor, looking for the one person who could always make him feel better.

Master was deep in conversation when Ben found him, consulting with Commander Trisaara. They sat together looking over some kind of information on the screens in front of them. Ben shifted silently into a fob, small and furred with two sets of leathery wings, and perched on a light fixture to wait until they were finished. 

Ben did not like Trisaara. She was fiercely loyal and an invaluable strategist, but there was something about her and the way she looked at him that always made Ben feel uncomfortable. Perhaps it was because she _did_ look at him. Most of the crewmembers on the _Antarasin_ did not interact with him unless necessary, which worked out fine for Ben. It didn’t pay to get too attached to anyone when you never knew if they would still be there tomorrow. Trisaara was different. When she was nearby her compound eyes were frequently focused on him. She seemed to watch him with some private amusement known only to her. Of course, like everything else, Ben’s feelings about this were irrelevant, so he ignored them. 

Once he was settled on the light fixture, Ben focused on Master’s conversation and felt his sensitive ears quiver in interest. They seemed to be discussing the alliance.  
“When are you going to contact them?” Trisaara asked, antenna twitching.

“In the morning.” Master’s voice had an edge to it, and his tentacles hung tensely. “I’ll give them some time to wonder first. They likely won’t even know that the attempt failed until I tell them. You have the reports from the rest of the fleet?”

“No other intruders were found,” Trisaara replied, turning on of the screens towards him. “Their crews are still inspecting the ships for infiltration signs or sabotage, but so far everything is clean.” She rubbed her thorax with one long leg. “What are you going to do about the prisoners?” Ben tried not to prick up his ears again at the question.

“I am still considering.” Master’s tentacles lashed in dissatisfaction. “Tennyson will likely refuse to speak, and I doubt the adolescent is privy to the kind of information I need.” Trisaara rubbed two of her front legs together.

“I would be happy to have a look at them if you like.”

“Perhaps.” Master flicked a tentacle to the side, dismissing the subject. “Do you have any news on the hunt for the informant?”

“Not yet.” Trisaara’s mandibles clicked together unhappily. “I am certain there is an information leak. The ship your prisoners came in on was updated with all of the latest security codes, and I can think of no other way they would have been acquired. I will continue to search until I find it.”

“Good. Keep me informed.” Master rose from the table and a red eye glanced Ben’s way. Ben fluttered his ears in an unobtrusive greeting. Master seemed to relax a little, and held out an arm Ben alighted happily, clutching a ridge in the red armour with his leathery feet. He ignored Trisaara’s eyes which had once again sought him out. 

“Of course Warlord,” she answered, inclining her head for a moment before returning to her screens. Master flicked a tentacle in farewell, than set off down the corridor, Ben clinging to his wrist. With relief, Ben saw that Master was heading back to his private apartments on the ship. He wondered if this was out of consideration for him, or whether Master also needed a break. 

Once they arrived, Ben landed on the ground and morphed, stretching suddenly human limbs and rolling his neck. Master’s tentacles rippled gently in amusement as he seated himself on a cushioned bench on one side of the room. He extended a clawed hand towards Ben and rubbed the fingers together. 

“Come here, pet.”

Ben smiled at the invitation and joined his Master, making himself comfortable on one large knee and leaning back against the armoured chest. Master ran one hand over Ben’s head, stroking gently, and Ben closed his eyes and relaxed, finally feeling that sense of _wrongness_ begin to dissipate. There was no room for doubts or worries when he was with his Master, only the overwhelming certainty that everything would be fine. Master was in control, and nothing else mattered. This was the only place Ben felt comfortable in his human form. His Master’s were the only eyes he wanted looking at him. He let the powerful presence wash over him and sighed contentedly. Once again, everything felt _right._

On the Antarasin’s main bridge, Ensign Grax was desperately trying to appear calm. The arachnichimp was busy breaking down and checking over the emergency weapons for the main deck. They were stored on a rack near the back of the vast space, which gave him a nice view of the activity going on around him. The weapon inspections also gave him reason for being here if anyone noticed him. His furry tail was wrapped around one slender blue leg in an attempt to keep it from twitching nervously. 

This was a very bad situation. It was his job to pass along information; nothing more, but he couldn’t do that right now, not with the scrutiny the communication channels were currently undergoing. Any attempt to communicate with his contact in the alliance would be noticed immediately. Compounding this was the fact that at least part of this mess was his fault. He was the one who had told the alliance that Vilgax would be out of the way for their infiltration, only to have the warlord change his plans at the last minute. By the time he had realized that Vilgax had delayed his journey the operatives had already been captured. Grax didn’t think Vilgax had suspected a security leak, but he easily might now.   
Grax fingered the blaster he was currently putting back together. He would like to do something to help, but all four of his hands were tied at the moment. The fleet was on high alert, and any suspicious movements would stand out in sharp relief. He would have to wait for a while before making any kind of move, and he wasn’t even sure what that should be. If it hadn’t been Maxwell Tennyson who had been captured, Grax would probably have happily kept his head down and hoped that their deaths would be swift, but Max was one of the pillars of the alliance. His guidance and strategy was invaluable, especially now when Vilgax had gained so much ground. Grax grimaced. He needed to decide what to do and how much he was willing to risk, whether that was trying to get a communication out that the two humans were alive but had been captured, or trying to free them himself. He swallowed, putting the finished blaster back on its hook and selecting another. 

One option was significantly riskier than the other, but neither would be possible at the moment, not while the warlord’s officers were going through everything with magnifying lenses. He would need to wait for a while until everyone calmed down. Hopefully by then he would have idea of what to do. And hopefully the prisoners would still be alive.

As he had that thought, Commander Trisaara entered the bridge, striding over purposefully to speak to the officers in charge of communications. Grax cursed internally. It might mean nothing, but that was his area, and the extra scrutiny was frightening. He didn’t think he had left traces, but who even knew any more. He ran a hand down his tail, smoothing the fur, not wanting it to stick out the way it did when he was frightened. He realized he was staring at the group, and pulled his eyes away. 

He should leave. He would give himself away if he stayed here staring. Casually, he replaced the blaster on its rack and marched out through the door to the bridge, trying as hard as possible to look like he was following orders.

Vilgax ran his claws gently through his pet’s soft hair. Ben was leaning against him, eyes closed and a small smile on his face. He wasn’t asleep, but he was certainly relaxing. Vilgax felt his own features softening, tentacles waving in contentment. It seemed Ben had needed a break as much as he did. 

He wondered if his pet was feeling alright after encountering the Tennysons. It had been a while since Ben had been confronted with anyone from his past. He had no worries about Ben’s loyalty, but didn’t want his pet to have to carry any burdensome emotions on his own, and he had seemed a little tense when he had first changed. Perhaps he would discuss this with Ben later. 

Vilgax leaned back on the bench. He needed to make some decisions regarding his prisoners, and he wasn’t certain what he intended to do. It would be so satisfying to kill them, or at least the old man, to rid the galaxy of one of the alliance’s most valuable assets, but at the same time, he knew what an excellent bargaining chip they could be against the alliance. He did not want to satisfy his desire for revenge only to cost himself a powerful negotiation tool further down the line. Vengeance or strategy; he wished it was an easier decision.

Trisaara was in favour of revenge, but then she usually was. Trisaara liked being crossed even less than he did, although she took a much more cool and dispassionate attitude about it. She had suggested that if they were to be executed, he should broadcast the footage of their deaths. It might serve as an effective intimidation tactic. Whatever his decision was, he needed to settle on it by the time he contacted the alliance to tell them they had failed. Still, Vilgax supposed he could afford himself a little time to relax with his pet before he had to decide. It might even help his thinking. Following Ben’s example, Vilgax settled himself more comfortably on the bench and let himself rest a little; enjoying the company.

There you have it!  
Whew, present day Ben is a lot harder to write for than past Ben, probably because I’ve had a lot more practice writing for the latter. Let me know what you think of him. Poor past Ben would be absolutely horrified by the events transpiring in this chapter. I hope the contrast keeps Vilgax sufficiently creepy.  
No Gwen point of view this chapter. Sorry about that! I’ve decided to use the official names for most canon alien species, with Vilgax’s race obviously being an exception. The names may be a little on the nose, but at least this way you will know/be able to look up the aliens if you aren’t sure who I’m talking about. Grax is one of the Spider Monkey aliens naturally, because I adore them.  
Hope you enjoyed our little journey into the present. Next up, we are going back to the past where we return to poor Ben’s mental and emotional breakdown, already in progress.  
See you all soon!


	18. Snapped

Shades Of Self Chapter 18  
Disclaimer: I do not own Ben 10, but this plot belongs to me!  
Here we are! This chapter is one I’ve been dying to share for ages! This story is the most extensively planned of all of my stories. I have all of the major plot points planned, and have for a while, although I occasionally add one if it pops into my head. The planning also includes a lot of secrets which you all may have guessed at, but which weren’t revealed until now. There will be more secrets and revelations to come, but here is the first big chunk, along with some of my favourite scenes to write.   
Song choice for this chapter is “It’s Been A While” by Staind.  
Please let me know what you think and see you all after the ride!

Warning:   
\- Mentions of self-harm.  
\- Mentions of suicide.  
\- Character death.

“No matter what trap you find yourself in, there will always be a way out, though it will not always be a way you would like.”  
\- From _Temptations_ A qrak holy book.

Four Years Ago

As Ben neared Vilgax’s rooms his steps slowed. He had already been moving slowly, admiring the sconces on the walls and peering interestedly into any open doors he passed, but now his pace practically halted. He was at the entrance to the long, ornate hall that led to Vilgax’s door, the soft purple and red light still playing over the walls. He wondered distantly whether the braziers were always burning, and whether servants had to come and restock them with fuel eventually. 

He sighed softly, raising one hand to tug absently at his collar. What was he doing here? This couldn’t lead to anything good. He shouldn’t continue. He had had a break from his room. He could turn around now and go back, and Vilgax might never even know he had been here. 

That was what he should do, but he knew he wasn’t going to do it; he couldn’t. Just the thought of returning to his room gave him a sick feeling in his stomach. There was so much night left, and he didn’t want to spend it there, tossing and turning and chasing sleep. He needed to sleep. His eyes were burning and his head was heavy with exhaustion, but what was the point of trying to sleep when he knew it wasn’t going to happen? He didn’t want to go back there. He didn’t particularly want to be here either if he was honest, but it was his only other choice. Just the fact that he had a choice about being here at all made the option more attractive. He had been deprived of agency in much the same way he had been deprived of the omnitrix, and it hurt just as much.

Ben started walking down the hall, practically inching his way along. He traced the raised carvings with his fingers as he went, admiring the intricate curls of stone. He was halfway there when he noticed that Vilgax’s door was agar. A pale light was shining inside, not as bright as the lights in the hall, but steady. It did not flicker the way the fire basins did. 

The sight made him stop again. Was Vilgax waiting for him? Had the alien known he would come? Ben’s heart was pounding in his ears. He walked the rest of the way as softly as he could, eyes on the slit in the door. When he finally reached it he hesitated again, one hand outstretched. This was a terrible idea. He was doing exactly what his captor wanted. It wasn’t too late. He could still go back; still pretend he had never been here. Vilgax hadn’t seen him yet.

Slowly, Ben reached out with one hand and pushed the door open partway. The inside was just as he remembered, though there seemed to be less mist in the air. Vilgax was inside. He was seated at the green stone desk and some kind of floating, oblong screen was open in front of him, displaying text in some alien language. The large window behind him showed a moonlit pond. It seemed to be raining outside and the water droplets collected and ran gently down the invisible wall.

When Ben opened the door, Vilgax turned slightly and his tentacles gave a gentle ripple, red eyes scanning the human, then he turned away again, back to the screen. Ben hesitated, uncertain. After a moment, he pushed the door open a little more and took a few cautious steps inside. Vilgax was aware of him, and had probably been waiting for him, but at least he seemed willing to leave Ben alone for now, and being here was still preferable to heading back to his room.

Ben paused again once he was completely inside, eyes on the alien for any sudden movements. Vilgax seemed to be completely focused on reading his screen, no longer glancing his way, and Ben mused idly how nice it would be to have something to read. It wasn’t an activity he usually enjoyed, but it would have been a nice distraction right now. His eyes slipped over to the window, following the raindrops as they trickled down the outside. 

A few minutes passed like this in silence. Ben stayed just inside the door, his gaze alternating between the rain falling outside the window and Vilgax at his desk. The atmosphere was strangely soothing, the air slightly misty, but not enough to make him feel wet, and Ben was so so tired. His eyelids felt like they had lead weights attached to them and his head was fuzzy. Yet he was still suffering from that awful restlessness, and he knew that if he were to go back to his room and try to sleep he would still be unable to. He was so sick of that room. He stifled a yawn and stole another glance at his captor, still reading. 

He tried to go back to watching the rain, but he found his eyes drawn once again to the omnitrix. It glowed its usual gentle green; the colour that meant he could activate it whenever he wanted, except he wasn’t _allowed to._ It was maddening, like an itch he couldn’t scratch that got more and more distracting the more he tried to ignore it. 

_What am I going to do tomorrow?_ The thought was unbidden, but now it was there and he had to address it. How was he going to face another day hardly touching the watch, followed by another night with no sleep? And how long after that? He already felt exhausted and jittery. He hadn’t felt this tired since the hypnotism incident, and at least while that was going on his body had been willing to let him sleep, even if Gwen and Grandpa kept waking him up. He felt so alone suddenly. It was so hard being the only one here.

Ben glanced up at Vilgax again.

He wondered if Vilgax would let him change if he asked. He knew Ben wasn’t able to sleep, and he did seem to want Ben to be healthy, even though his reasons were unpleasant to think about. Ben bit his lip, gaze darting back to the window. He didn’t want to ask for anything from Vilgax; didn’t want to give away to the monster how much he needed this, even if Vilgax probably already knew, but the desire to change was so strong. Even standing was getting difficult now. He shifted restlessly from foot to foot. Pacing would help for a few minutes, but he wasn’t going to do that here while his captor was watching. Ben clasped his hands behind his back to keep from fiddling. He dug the nails of one hand sharply into the skin of his other arm, the flash of pain breaking through his thoughts. It was almost a relief from the chaos, but he felt a twinge of guilt as well. He knew it wasn’t good to do that to himself. 

He should leave now, before he did something stupid. He knew he should. He glanced over at the door, still open behind him, but he didn’t make a move toward it. He should leave, but…

“Hey.” Ben’s voice was quiet, perhaps because a large part of him didn’t want to be heard, but Vilgax heard him anyway. The alien turned, much as he had when Ben had first entered, but this time he did not turn away. He studied Ben, waiting. “Hey,” Ben repeated hoarsely, dropping his gaze so that he didn’t have to meet the glowing red eyes. “Vilgax, I need to use the omnitrix.” He paused, then “Please,” he added softly, hating the word as it left his lips.

Vilgax was quiet for a moment and Ben could feel him thinking. When he spoke it was soft as well, like a rumble of distant thunder.

“Tell me Ben, who am I?”

Ben looked up, confused. “What…” he moistened suddenly dry lips with his tongue. “What do you mean?” Vilgax leaned forward slightly, and Ben tensed, but didn’t move back.

“I told you Ben, you belong to me now, and that makes me your Master. If you want something, you need to address me properly.”

Ben paled, suddenly understanding and wishing desperately that he didn’t. He stared at Vilgax in what could only be described as horror, because this was it, wasn’t it? Vilgax had just told him what he needed to do if he wanted to use the omnitrix, and he couldn’t do that; he _couldn’t._ He wasn’t going to entertain this _role_ Vilgax was forcing him into. Tongue-tied, he shook his head helplessly. Vilgax’s tentacles quivered slightly, and Ben flinched, but the alien merely flicked a tentacle to the side dismissively than turned away again, back to his screen.

Ben swallowed thickly. Tears formed in his eyes and he closed them, breathing slowly and deeply, trying to override the panic he was feeling. He backed slowly until he found one of the red stone walls, than sat, back against the cool stone. His heart felt like it was beating too quickly, and his breaths were fast and shallow. He wrapped his arms around his knees and rested his head on top.

He wouldn’t do it. The idea was repulsive and he felt himself shrink from the very thought, but now that he knew what he had to do to change the _need_ was even stronger. It was like a starving man staring at a plate of food. Maybe he should leave, but he just couldn’t bring himself to, not with what he needed so close.

Miserably he shifted to look out of the window again, cheek pressing against his knees. At least he could still watch the rain. He didn’t look at the omnitrix, but it was still there in his thoughts. He saw it more clearly than the view through the window, even though it seemed farther away.

Ben thought it had been about an hour. It was hard to tell with how the time was dragging. He sat there in a cloud of exhausted misery. At least the window meant he would know when morning came. He could barely keep his head up, but every time he nodded his eyes snapped open, even though they burned. He turned his head blearily to look at Vilgax. The alien still appeared to be reading, and seemed content to stay there for all eternity. Didn’t Vilgax sleep? Ben didn’t really know. 

He rubbed his scratchy eyes and sat up straighter, crossing his legs. He had shifted his position several times but was still in roughly the same area, against the wall. After a minute he grew tired of the position he was in and pulled himself up until he was standing again, one hand braced against the wall. Was his heart beating faster again, or was it his imagination? He looked over at Vilgax, staring this time, almost willing the alien to turn around. Tears were forming in his eyes again and he blinked them away angrily, only to have more form almost immediately. _It’s from being so tired,_ he told himself, and that was certainly at least partly true. 

Ben bit his lip until it hurt, eyes still on his captor. It was almost funny how much he had wondered about why he was here and what Vilgax wanted with him, and now that he knew Ben thought he would rather it had remained a mystery. Vilgax gave no sign he was aware of the scrutiny, but he was probably keeping an eye on Ben, waiting for him to give in. Ben was practically waiting for that too. Several times he had even opened his mouth to speak, but the words had been aborted. The omnitrix was all he could think about, and it was getting harder and harder to keep his silence. Vilgax probably didn’t care if he gave in tonight. _He_ could wait as long as he wanted. Ben was the one who was trapped inside his own skin.

Would it be so awful to say it, just this once? It was just a word, wasn’t it? But of course it wasn’t, and both he and Vilgax knew it.

Ben took a couple of steps forward slowly, agonizingly. His arms felt chilled, the tiny hairs on them standing on end, and he rubbed them awkwardly. He opened his mouth and shut it again. He wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ say it.

_Just once._

“M-master?” It was quiet; almost a whisper, and he clenched his hands as he said it, almost as though he were trying to stop himself from speaking, but it was out, and Vilgax heard it. He couldn’t meet the alien’s eyes and his gaze stayed glued to the floor. His cheeks burned with humiliation, and self loathing washed over him like a dark wave. He wished he could take the word back, but he still waited to see if it would be enough for Vilgax to allow him to change. He couldn’t force any more words out, but Vilgax already knew what he wanted to ask.

“Very well,” Vilgax said after a heart-stopping pause. “You may change for as long as you need to, but you must remain here until you are finished.” At his voice, Ben had started, and it took a second to register the words. Then the green light flashed, and Ben was heatblast. He stood for a moment, letting the tiny water drops sizzle against his flames and relishing the change, and then flashed into cannonbolt, followed by fourarms and wildmut. He finished as upgrade, feeling slightly breathless from the rapid shifts to his body, and melted into an undulating puddle on the floor. Truly he was too tired to want to do too much right now, even as his aliens. It just felt wonderful to change, and the relief almost blocked out the darkness at the back of his mind that reproached him for giving in too easily; that asked what he had done, and what he was going to do now.

He stayed like that for a long time, shifting between aliens every little while, not doing anything in particular, just enjoying the feeling of being other beings. He had been avoiding looking Vilgax’s way, but he could feel the alien’s eyes on him. He wasn’t sure how long his stayed in his alien forms, although it must have been significantly longer than he had ever been able to use the omnitrix for before. 

Finally, when he felt like he could no longer keep his eyes open, Ben flickered back into himself with a final flash of green. He stood up and immediately stumbled as a wave of exhaustion hit. 

Vilgax had definitely been watching, because he stood as the boy swayed, then walked over to Ben’s side of the room. Ben looked up blearily as he approached and felt a flash of trepidation. He backed up, but found himself against the wall with nowhere to go. 

One hand reached out slowly, and Ben put his arms up defensively in front of him. 

“Stay away,” he said, but it came out in a whisper, and there was no force behind it.

“No,” the alien answered. He brushed Ben’s arms aside like cobwebs, than lifted the boy up with both hands. Ben struggled for a moment as he was picked up, twisting and jerking against the alien’s grasp. Then his struggles faltered, and suddenly he was crying. The tears spilled out and ran down his face in hot, painful streams. He couldn’t stop them. His breaths were coming in helpless gasps now, and he covered his face with his hands, trying to keep his sobs quiet. He felt himself being carried, than the jolt which was Vilgax sitting down. Something touched his head, and Ben flinched as the alien started stroking his hair, but didn’t fight it. There was an awful pain in his chest as though it contained all of the tears in the world, and no matter how long he cried it would never be enough.

Gradually Ben’s tears lessened as exhaustion overtook his mind and his awareness faded. There was no conscious thought, but the shame of what he had done lingered and followed him down into the darkness.

Vilgax glanced down. The small head had fallen to the side and was resting against a curve in his armour. Ben’s eyes were closed and his breathing was deep and slow. His hands had fallen to his sides, and the tracks of his tears stood out on his cheeks, but his face had softened in repose. Vilgax remained still, not wanting to wake the boy, not wanting to move until his sleep had deepened. 

_He fell asleep. On me._

It was amusing, yet puzzling given Ben’s hatred and fear of him. Why had he fallen asleep so easily in his presence? He studied the boy’s face, noting the dark shadows under the gently closed eyes. He knew the human was not sleeping well, but he looked as though he was barely sleeping at all. The power the omnitrix had over Ben was surprising. Being forcibly deprived of it appeared to be physically harming him. Vilgax had not expected Ben to fulfill his ‘condition’ this evening. He had assumed that he would need to wait another day or two before the strain had forced him to give in. Ben must have been keeping the agony to himself. Perhaps Vilgax should have been monitoring the cameras in the boy’s room more closely.

Vilgax didn’t really know why he had picked the boy up after he had changed back; only that he had wanted to, and so he had. He had expected resistance, but he had been surprised when Ben broke down. He had only seen Ben cry once before, and both times it had been hard to listen to, even though it meant his plan was working. Vilgax’s tentacles rippled in a sigh. At least Ben seemed to be getting used to being held. He had hardly struggled at all this time, although that could have also had to do with his exhaustion.  
Unable to help it, Vilgaz found himself reaching down, slowly tracing one claw along the sleeping boy’s hairline. Ben did not stir, and Vilgax moved the hand to run his claws through the dark brown hair.

_You caused me so much trouble._

He thought back to his attempt to take the omnitrix, when Tennyson’s intervention and Ben’s surprising resourcefulness had resulted in his own humiliating defeat.

_In the aftermath his escape pod had landed roughly in a nearby forest and he had clawed his way out of the small craft to behold the smoking wreck that was once his flagship. A spare number of crew had survived, shaken and singed, cowering from their warlord’s wrath as he fumed that a child_ – a human child – _had done this. Trisaara had emerged last from her pod, finding it difficult to squeeze her abdomen around the torn tree trunks. She waited for him to calm down, and then she took him aside and showed him what she had recovered from the ship’s computers, and the remaining crew scattered._

_Vilgax’s tentacles had hung dangerously still as he read the contents of the data pad, the results of his analysis on his former prisoner. He couldn’t believe it at first, and then his tentacles twisted with fury. Azmuth. Azmuth had done this, he was sure. The old Galen was astronomically brilliant, brilliant even when compared to others of his species, but he was stubborn as a black hole, and what Vilgax wanted the omnitrix for was the antitheses of everything Asmuth believed in. This stunt of his could have cost the warlord everything if he had succeeded in detaching the omnitrix from its host, and once Vilgax’s rage had subsided, and his mind had started working again, he realized that he would have to leave the boy alone for now, much as it galled him. He needed Asmuth to fix this mess, and he would, Vilgax would make sure of it._

_Reluctantly, the warlord had left the Earth and its irritating occupant alone for a while, leaving only a few spies to keep him informed, and gone in pursuit of the Galen scientist. Once this problem had been fixed, he resolved to make Tennyson’s grandson suffer for this humiliation._

It was hard to connect that memory with the sleeping human in his lap, and Vilgax found he no longer wanted to. Ben was his now. He had been the only valuable thing on that miserable planet, and now the boy was his. With every day that passed Ben belonged to him more. Vilgax gently stroked the sleeping boy’s hair again, enjoying the softness. Now that he had no animosity towards the child, it was easy to see how young he really was, and easier to worry about his well being, and it was growing harder to cause him pain. The child’s disobedience still irritated him, but he would be patient. It would not last.

_He had tracked down Asmuth. The Galen was elusive, but Vilgax was determined, and eventually he had been caught, hiding out in the once magnificent ruins on a barren world. Vilgax approached the first interrogation with his prisoner with a smug self-satisfaction. Asmuth was restrained, bound to a wall and looking absurdly tiny. He showed the Galen the scans he had taken of Ben and the omnitrix, and demanded to know how Asmuth had caused this and how it could be fixed. He had expected defiance, fear or even anger from the scientist in response. What he had not expected was laughter._

_Asmuth laughed heartily, small sides shaking with mirth. Then, at Vilgax’s growl, he sobered somewhat, although he still seemed amused._

_“I don’t know what caused the omnitrix to bond so thoroughly with its host. It certainly wasn’t my intention. If I were to posit a guess, I would say that it may have been because humans are one of the few species that were never entered into the omnitrix’s database. Perhaps the omnitrix was attempting to acquire his D.N.A when they connected. Regardless, I doubt I would be able to separate them, other than the way you were attempting.” He shrugged as well as he could from his bound position. “Unfortunate for you, I’m afraid.” The Galen chuckled again, appearing completely at ease before Vilgax’s anger. “There is only one omnitrix after all; a prototype, and there it will stay. It will never be yours.”_

_“You are wrong, scientist.” Vilgax’s tentacles hung tensely, only the very tips twitching in his fury. “If you cannot undo the bond than you will build me another omnitrix, than as many more as I desire.”_

_“Never.” Asmuth’s face had gone serious. He narrowed his large eyes and his face took on a cold stiffness. “The omnitrix is my greatest achievement for exploration and understanding between species’. I will not allow it to become a weapon of war.”_

_“You will not have a choice,” Vilgax informed him coldly. He turned to leave, to collect himself a little, but Asmuth had to have the final word._

_“You will never possess the omnitrix Vilgax,” he called as the cell door swung shut. “I will make sure of it!”_

_At the time, Vilgax had thought it was just an empty threat. He had heard enough of them over the years. Many beings had promised vengeance on him for their loved ones or their planets. Asmuth was trapped. He could not escape and eventually Vilgax would induce him into giving up his secrets. It was not ideal. He had hoped to gain control of the omnitrix itself rather than an uncooperative scientist, but he was resourceful, and he would manage. He took the evening considering ways to unlock Asmuth’s stubborn mouth and did not let his prisoner’s words worry him._

_The next morning, Asmuth was dead._

_When his servants informed him, Vilgax had been stunned for a moment, than he pushed past them and ran to the scientist’s cell. Asmuth hung where he had last seen him, hands bound to the wall by his metal restraints. His head hung down limply over one shoulder, and he looked small and empty. He had taken his own life, as Vilgax soon discovered. Upon examination, Atron had found a small capsule which had been hidden in the hollow of one tooth. It contained a poison so strong it had eaten away at Asmuth’s mouth and throat when he bit into it. His death had been quick._

_Vilgax had had trouble believing it at first. Suicide was practically unknown on Xentrex, and Vilgax could not understand why Asmuth would give his life for his creation, for a piece of machinery. It seemed nonsensical, but it had happened._

_And it was almost the old Galen’s victory. Asmuth’s mind was unique. No one would be able to recreate what he had done, not without taking the omnitrix apart and studying it, and that was impossible now._

_He would never have his army._

_He would never possess the omnitrix._

_At least that was Asmuth’s intention. Once Vilgax’s rage had calmed he began to think about the omnitrix’s human host. Ben Tennyson was so young and inexperienced, his fighting was raw and unpolished, but he was already powerful. He had shown incredible resourcefulness against the fighters Vilgax had sent, and against Vilgax himself. And he was unique; the only being in existence who would ever have access to the power of the omnitrix._

_He thought again about the information which had caused him such aggravation and Asmuth such amusement. Something had happened when the omnitrix bonded with Ben’s D.N.A. They were no longer separate entities, but part of the same life form and they needed each other, could no longer function apart, either of them. If, in his ignorance, he had succeeded in removing the omnitrix from the human child it would truly have been the end of all his plans. It would have killed them both._

_Asmuth’s final words echoed in his mind and his tentacles flexed as he rose to the old Galen’s challenge._ You will never possess the omnitrix, _Asmuth had said._

_“We will see about that.”_

Vilgax supposed he should still be angry that his first ambition had failed, but those feelings had faded. It was not the overwhelming power he had sought, but as he held Ben’s sleeping form he found he no longer minded. He looked down at the small child, peacefully asleep and felt an unaccountable contentment.

The galaxy would be his. He would build his armies and advance through the systems. He would become the greatest warlord in Xentrex history, and the most powerful being in the galaxy would be by his side.

“Someday that is what you will be,” he told the sleeping boy. The rain fell placidly outside the window, and Vilgax felt that his future had never been so near.

End of the chapter!  
Yay, flashback in a flashback!   
It rains a lot on Crito-Ah, doesn’t it? That’s part of why Vilgax likes it so much; makes him think of home.  
I really hope this chapter came out well. I’ve been waiting to share it for so long! Ben was so hard to write here. I hope his breakdown was realistic and that it didn’t seem too rushed. I’ve really worked to do a gradual build up to this scene through the previous few chapters, so please let me know how I did. Ben’s not quite down for the count, at least not yet. This was really just the first step. This chapter is a little longer than usual. I needed to fit everything in and I didn’t want to defer the flashback scene again!  
Also let me know how the flashback scene went. I’ve been dying for this reveal since the very start of this story, though I imagine some of you guessed where this was going. Sorry to anyone who’s mad at me about Asmuth.  
And I wonder how much reading Vilgax actually got done. ;)  
Next update will probably be either for Loving You Behind Closed Doors, Anniversary, or another chapter for Shades Of Self.  
See you next time!


	19. Aftermath

Shades Of Self Chapter 19  
Disclaimer: I do not own Ben 10, but I am having lots of fun with it!  
Welcome back! I realize last chapter was really dark. This one should be a bit of an easier read; still not great for Ben, but less grim I hope.  
Thank you so much to all of the people who read the last chapter, and especially to the people who commented and reviewed! I had an excellent time reading everyone’s thoughts on this story and the character and plot developments which took place. I’m especially glad that people found last chapter to be believable. I was a little nervous posting it after building it up so much, and because it became one of my favourite scenes. Don’t worry though; there are lots of events and revelations to come.  
If anyone is interested in an excellent One Piece fanfic, you should check out “To Be Human” by rikuai12. It has some excellent world building, character interactions and introspections. Some of my favourite things! If you like One Piece and you are reading my story, you will probably enjoy it very much!  
Sorry that this is a little late. I only missed my deadline to update something by one day though, so I still count that as a win. Enjoy the chapter and see you at the bottom!

“It is not the cruelty that stings the most, nor the neglect, but the infrequent kindnesses.”  
\- Prinmat, Galven psychologist

Four Years Ago

Ben slept long and deeply. He had no dreams, or did not remember those he had, and when he awoke he found that he didn’t know where he was. He opened his eyes to daylight and thought for a moment that he was at home in his room with the curtains open. Then he saw the red stone walls and the giant window in Vilgax’s room, and last night came back with a rush. Ben’s heart dropped into his stomach. He sat up abruptly and looked sharply around for Vilgax, but the alien was not in evidence. 

Ben found he had been lying on the leathery couch-thing he had seen before, and he was covered with a soft, moss-coloured blanket, which he shoved off with a shudder. The room was not misty this morning, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Ben wondered if it was dependent on the weather, or if Vilgax had turned it off.

He slowly climbed down off of the high couch and stood on the cold stone floor. His boots had been removed again during the night, and he pulled them on with stumbling fingers. He was trying not to think about what had happened before he had fallen asleep, why he no longer felt like an over inflated balloon, what he had said to Vilgax in order to get permission to change, and what had happened afterward when Vilgax picked him up. The thoughts came anyway, accompanied by a rush of despair and self loathing, and Ben clutched fistfuls of his hair with his hands and took deep breaths until the tight feeling in his chest faded. 

Once the feeling passed for the moment he took tentative stock of himself. He still felt tired, as though he hadn’t gotten enough sleep, but the awful restless feeling was mostly gone, and the omnitrix no longer dominated his thoughts. It was almost like awakening from a nightmare, and he found that even the memory of how he had felt at the height of his discomfort had faded and no longer seemed real. However, if that had been a nightmare, than surely this was one as well, though for different reasons. His eyes felt sore and maybe a little raw, and everything felt vaguely surreal as though it had happened to some other person. Thoughts of last night started poking insistently at his mind again, but he did his best to ignore them.

Ben blinked a few times to fight off the wet feeling in his eyes, then took another look around the room, glancing apprehensively at the two closed doors. One lead out into the corridor, but he wasn’t sure about the other. It probably opened onto a bedroom or another part of Vilgax’s apartment. Vilgax could be in there. Ben doubted the alien would leave him alone in his personal rooms. Even if there wasn’t anything Ben could do to escape, there was probably sensitive information somewhere in here that the alien didn’t want him seeing.

Ben’s eyes wandered over to the green stone desk Vilgax had been sitting at last night. There was no floating screen over it this morning, but maybe there was a switch or something to activate it. He hesitated at a sudden thought. If he could turn the screen on, maybe he would be able to find some important information. _Like how to get this collar off._ He silenced the thought as soon as he had it. He didn’t want to hope too much for something that had been impossible for what felt like so long. 

Ben chewed his lip apprehensively, darting glances around the room, but eyes always going back to the two doors. A not insignificant part of him wanted to forget his idea and leave now, before Vilgax came back to check on him. He didn’t want the monster to catch him investigating, didn’t want to see Vilgax at all after everything that had happened. Maybe he should just go back to his room and try to pretend that last night hadn’t happened. _No._

He shook himself mentally. This wasn’t like him. This was his chance to find some information, and possibly something that could help him escape. He had never been one to play it safe or to give up, even when a situation seemed hopeless. Normally he would have ignored any risk, but now he could feel his breath hitch in his throat even as he made his way over to the desk. He knew he had to be fast, to find what he could before the alien came back, but his mind was still wrestling with the memories of last night and his movements were slow and hesitant.

He didn’t know what he would do when Vilgax inevitably returned, not after what Ben had called him, and not after breaking down like that in the monster’s arms. The very thought of what he had done filled him with shame and a kind of dull horror. He had _given up_ last night; surrendered much more than he had when he was first captured. Then Vilgax had picked him up, held him, _petted him,_ and Ben had done nothing. He had just sat there and taken it. And he had cried in front of the alien for the first time. 

Ben felt a painful tightness building in his chest again and his eyes prickled with the beginnings of more tears, but he swallowed the feeling down with difficulty and took a long, steadying breath. He looked up at the stone desk. The chair was also of carved stone, and was much too tall for him, but he managed to scramble up with the aid of the carved ridges in the stone until he was standing on the seat. It was cushioned, and he rocked a little as he lent forward and grasped the edge of the desk with one hand.

Ben’s yellow-green eyes darted again to the doors, then, relieved that they were still closed, his gaze trailed over the desk. It was flat and smooth, the stone cold and smooth as ice. It was carved of a deep green stone with irregular black veins. Ben’s wandering eyes could find no buttons or switches, and when he felt the surface, along the edges and underneath the lid of the desk, his fingers met only the same smooth stone. He checked the arms of the chair as well, but had the same result. After a few minutes of searching vainly Ben let go of the stone and sat down abruptly in the huge chair. He felt the familiar prickling in his eyes too late to stop several tears from trickling down his face. He raised a hand to wipe them away, than let it fall limply back to his side. More tears came and he let them fall.

_What am I doing?_

He didn’t know any more. 

At first it had been almost easy. His imprisonment had been infuriating, boring and frightening, but it had all felt temporary. He had been caught by enemies before, after all, and there was always some way to escape. He had searched for a way out that he was sure was there, and he had fought Vilgax with all he had. Even once Vilgax put the collar on him, when he knew he couldn’t physically resist his captor, he had fought and struggled against Vilgax’s orders, resisting as best he could. But nothing he did had mattered. Vilgax merely continued with whatever plans he had, and Ben was forced to go along with them. His struggles made no difference to the alien.

How long would he have to do this? It couldn’t be forever; it just couldn’t. He couldn’t fight Vilgax forever; couldn’t keep resisting when it changed nothing.  
The self-loathing welled up again inside him. He knew he would be disappointing Grandpa Max and all of the other plumbers if they could see him right now; sitting here uselessly crying in Vilgax’s chair. 

_His master’s_ chair. 

His heart seemed to clench at the thought and Ben lifted his hands again, scrubbing angrily at his face, not caring that the harsh rubbing made his sore eyes sting. Tears still lingered, but they didn’t quite spill over and he was able to blink them back. 

Ben sat there for a minute, eyes focused on nothing, just breathing. For some reason, he still didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to be here when Vilgax came for him, but his room wouldn’t be any better. Vilgax would come to get him wherever he was. It didn’t make a difference, so he might as well stay where he was. His breakfast had probably been delivered to his room, but Ben wasn’t hungry. Slowly, he lent back into the chair so he could watch the doors. Then he waited for Vilgax.

Ben spent the time while he was waiting mentally prepping himself for the alien’s return, but when Vilgax opened the door, he still felt his heart jump unpleasantly. It was the door into the corridor that opened, so Vilgax must have been out doing something this morning, not that Ben had any real idea of what time it was. Red eyes went first to the empty couch, than trailed across the room until he noticed Ben, still seated in the stone chair with his legs stretched out in front of him, and his tentacles rippled gently. Ben was stiff as a board, hands clenched in an effort to keep his unsteady emotions under control. He met the red eyes for a moment before dropping his gaze uncomfortably, though he still watched the alien warily.

Ben wondered whether Vilgax was surprised to see him still here. If he was, there was no indication of it. Vilgax took a few steps into the room, towards him, and Ben found himself pressing back into the pillows, unconsciously trying to back away. He felt the familiar helplessness wash over him like cold water. It didn’t matter what he did; whether he tried to keep his distance or not; Vilgax would do what he wanted anyway. 

“How did you sleep, Ben?” 

Ben jumped again slightly at the growled question. 

“Fine,” he managed in a quiet voice.

“Good.”

Vilgax took another few steps toward him. Ben watched him approach, but did nothing except try to shrink into himself, even when one large hand reached out and stroked over his hair, smoothing it back gently. Ben flinched at the touch and clenched his hands more tightly until his nails dug into his skin. After a few moments, Vilgax stopped petting him and moved back again slightly. Ben let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. At least Vilgax hadn’t picked him up this time.

Vilgax continued watching him closely. He glanced around the room before his eyes returned to Ben.

“I have something to attend to before your training,” he said in a distant growl. Ben wondered why the alien was telling him this. Vilgax didn’t usually keep him abreast of whatever he did during most of the day. At least he knew he still had training today. That was a bit of a relief. His desire to use the omnitrix had lessened considerably, but it was still there. Vilgax had paused for a moment, as though waiting for a reaction. Then he continued. “You may accompany me if you wish, or you may return to your room until I come for you.”   
Ben’s thoughts ground to a halt and his eyes snapped back up to Vilgax’s face. The alien had paused, waiting as he always did, but this time he was waiting for an answer, not acquiescence. Ben hesitated for a moment. He didn’t want to go anywhere with Vilgax but….

_But it’s still better than being alone in that room._

“I’ll come with you.” He said it quietly, feeling another whisper of shame, but brushing it away. One of Vilgax’s tentacles twitched to the side. Ben had seen that gesture from Vilgax before when aliens on the ship addressed him. It might be an affirmation, but he wasn’t sure.

“Come,” Vilgax said. He turned away from Ben finally and started toward the door. Behind him, Ben hesitated again, but only for a moment. Then he climbed down off of the chair and followed.

Ben was surprised by how busy it was. After leaving the empty hallways which seemed to surround Vilgax’s rooms, Ben saw many aliens moving through the hallways, all seemingly absorbed in some important task. Most of the aliens they passed were the species that seemed to be native to this planet, the ones he had privately begun calling Swampfire, but there were a few other species present as well, possibly from Vilgax’s ship. As Ben had previously noticed, any alien they passed paused in their activities to acknowledge Vilgax with a respectful word or gesture before hurrying on. 

Ben found himself calming slightly as they walked, his tumultuous emotions settling a little. It had been a few days since he had seen anyone aside from Vilgax, and he watched the aliens with a kind of hunger. They had been walking for a while now. Wherever his captor was heading was much farther than the training arena, and Ben found that it was nice to stretch his legs, as well as get a look at more of the massive building. He had a feeling he had only seen a fraction of it so far.

Ben had already noticed that that the architecture on this planet seemed to involve lots of carved stone and had an ancient feel to it, despite the advanced technology which was clearly present. It was very different from the highly industrial feeling of Vilgax’s ship. Much of the lighting came from either open flames or some kind of glowing crystals, as Ben had seen in Vilgax’s room. It reminded him of a castle or possibly a cathedral because of the delicate carvings which were often evident. 

For a while now they had been walking through a set of corridors carved from stone that was deep blue green. The walls were carved with strange, underwater creatures, all eyes and teeth and strange whip-like fins, and the light came from small, blue flames in recesses in the walls. Ben traced the carvings with his eyes as they passed, fascinated. He would have liked to stop and get a closer look, but didn’t want Vilgax to force him forward with a command. It was still amazing to look at. The flickering nature of the light played over the carvings which seemed to move and undulate under its influence, and Ben wondered whether they represented real creatures that lived on this planet.   
He wondered if he would ever be allowed out of this building to find out.

They left the underwater section behind them and entered a more austere region carved from grey stone shot with clear quartz. There was less for Ben to look at in this area, and less to distract him from his thoughts. Fortunately, they seemed to have reached Vilgax’s destination. An arched doorway opened into a large, circular room dominated by a massive stone table of the same shape, carved out of deep black stone. Two aliens were waiting in front of the table, and inclined their heads when Vilgax entered. One was a Swampfire alien. It had a slightly bent back and was dull green touched with brown. Its crest was mostly orange with red along the bottom like a dying fire. It made Ben think that perhaps this alien was old, a thought which was amplified by how stiffly it moved. The other alien was very different. It was some kind of huge insect, only twice as tall as Ben, but as long as Vilgax was tall. Its hard shell was black with a blue sheen, and its compound eyes, sharp looking mandibles and twitching antennae gave it an undeniable creep factor. Both aliens looked at Ben for a moment and then quickly away again. Ben wondered what Vilgax had said about him to his subordinates.

“Warlord, welcome.” It was the insect who spoke. Its voice was cold and clipped, as though the end of each sentence had been snipped off with a pair of scissors, but something about its soft, high voice made Ben think it was female.

“Trisaara,” Vilgax greeted then, turning to the Swampfire alien, “Raskkof.” He strode past the two aliens with Ben following uncertainly until he reached the table. “Show me the Marcross solar system.”

The table was a little high for Ben with the top being just about level with his nose, but he could at least see over the edge. When they had entered, the table top was as smooth and black as obsidian. However, at Vilgax’s order the alien called Raskkof touched something on a screen he was holding and a holographic display flickered on. It showed a set of seven planets of different sizes and colours floating slightly above the table’s surface.

Vilgax leant over the display slightly, reaching out to touch one planet with his claw. It was right in the middle, a blue globe with skinny continents winding across its surface like snakes. At his touch, the hologram of the planet enlarged until it was the size of a large beach ball. Beside the planet, what looked like a list of stats in an alien language appeared.

“Prosious,” Vilgax said. “When did the Plumbers contact them?” Ben looked up sharply at this.

“Yesterday,” the insect, Trisaara, answered in her clipped tone. “Your emissary intercepted their coded transmission. According to His Holiness, they haven’t been contacted at all.” Vilgax’s tentacles writhed in what Ben was pretty sure was anger. 

“This means they were only delaying,” he growled. “They never intended to accept.”

“So it would appear.” Trisaara’s antennae twitched and she scuttled closer. Ben took a couple of small steps back. “Our fleet is ready, and better poised. We should be able to get there first, in time to secure the atmosphere. Will you be leading the attack?” Ben felt it when Vilgax’s gaze turned to him. He met the red eyes for a moment, then hunched his shoulders and looked away, back to the planet Vilgax was about to invade. Vilgax turned back to Trisaara.

“I trust you can manage the assault.”

“Of course,” she answered, her two smallest front legs rubbed together like a fly cleaning itself.

“Good.” Vilgax eyed the planet again. “Once you have routed the Plumbers, inform His Holiness that Prosious no longer has a choice about joining my empire.”

“Gladly. Do you wish me to punish the inhabitants?”

Vilgax’s red eyes looked very cold as they turned from the hologram. “At your discretion.”

They left shortly after. Vilgax gave his subordinate some more instructions, and they discussed the planet and its resources. Ben listened absently, but his thoughts were whirling. He couldn’t take his eyes off the holographic display. Several times he thought he felt eyes on him, but when he looked up, the aliens were all deep in conversation. When Vilgax turned to leave, Ben cast a final glance at the peaceful blue planet in the hologram and it stayed in his mind as they walked down a new set of corridors. 

While focusing on his own problems, he supposed he had forgotten what Vilgax’s ultimate goal was. He wanted to conquer the galaxy, at least from what Ben understood. He didn’t know anything about the planet Vilgax was talking about, but they were in trouble, and they had asked the Plumbers for help. Vilgax’s troops were trying to get there first, to have an advantage in the coming fight. Vilgax had not seemed worried that he might lose, only angry at Prosious because they had asked for help. How big was his fleet, and how large a force would be Plumbers be able to send?

Would Grandpa Max be there?

Ben shook his head. Surely not. Grandpa was retired or something. He would protect the earth if it was threatened, but he likely wouldn’t go so far across the galaxy. Ben glanced up at his captor. How many planets did Vilgax already control? He certainly seemed to own this one, and probably whatever planet he had originally come from. Ben felt a surge of resentment towards the alien. Why was Vilgax doing this, just to gain more power? He thought about the meeting room again. Ben had not expected to be taken to a war meeting. It really highlighted how thoroughly trapped he was. The element of surprise was obviously important for the coming invasion but Ben had been brought along anyway. It clearly didn’t matter what Ben heard. Vilgax was confident he wouldn’t be able to tell anyone. 

And he was right.

Ben swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. He couldn’t do anything for those people. He couldn’t even help himself. Some hero he turned out to be. 

Ben paused, eyes taking in the sight before him. They had arrived at the training arena some time during his unpleasant musings, but it had changed. Instead of the bare space where he had fought with the robots, Ben saw that a variety of metal and wire contraptions had seemingly emerged from the walls. They wound around the entire outside of the ring, and some even hung down from the top, near the ceiling. 

_It’s an obstacle course,_ Ben noticed with interest. He felt a spike of anticipation and looked back to where Vilgax was closing the door. When the alien turned to him he waited impatiently as the course was explained, than morphed as soon as the order was uttered. His gloomy thoughts were tossed aside for the moment and he allowed himself to become lost in the adrenaline of the changes as he worked his way through the course. Once again the ability to change from alien to alien was exhilarating and Ben felt almost like laughing as he slipped under or around obstacles. Nothing could touch him like this.

The training session lasted longer than the previous ones, and by the time Vilgax ordered him to change back Ben was tired and morphed without complaint. He was feeling hungry now, although he wasn’t looking forward to the imitation food that would be waiting for him. As they started back towards his cell, he glanced down at the omnitrix. He supposed he didn’t really know much about it, despite it being literally attached to him. He hadn’t thought that not being able to use it would mess him up like it had. It had left him at helpless, pleading to change, and he never wanted to feel that again. Had Vilgax known what would happen? _Probably,_ Ben thought grimly. The alien had likely been counting on his breakdown. He wondered what the alien would do next. Vilgax had not told Ben to call him ‘master’ again today, but Ben hadn’t initiated any conversations with him either. He sighed. He was sure it would come up again at some point. 

And then they were back. Ben felt his heart constrict as he looked at the familiar doorway. He took a few reluctant steps inside, and then stopped in amazement. This _was_ his room, he was sure, but the wall opposite his bed had changed. It was now a window like the one in Vilgax’s room, but smaller. Through the transparent wall he could see the trees of the jungle and a kind of marsh, swampy with little grass islands in it. He looked back at Vilgax in confusion to find the alien watching him inscrutably.

Vilgax didn’t say anything about the window. All he said was “You may come to my rooms whenever you need to.” Then he turned to leave, closing the door behind him. Ben was still for a moment, merely staring. Slowly he walked up to the window, placing one palm on the transparency and looking out. The jungle stretched out as far as he could see on either side. It was very cloudy, but not quite raining. After watching for a minute he noticed one of the small lizard creatures sitting in a tree, eating something that it held in one tiny claw. 

Why had Vilgax done this? Ben shook his head. He didn’t know, but maybe right now it didn’t matter. What was important was that it had happened. He decided he could wait a little while longer before he ate. Right now, all he wanted to do was look at the outside world. He didn’t know how long he would be able to, after all.

Thanks for reading!  
What did you think of the aftermath? This was a less emotional chapter, so we get a little time to relax. Not that Ben is feeling too relaxed.   
Finally Ben meets Trisaara, or at least sees her for the first time. And he got to hear names even! Ben doesn’t get introduced to a lot of people right now. He still doesn’t even know Atron’s real name poor kid. Not a very momentous meeting perhaps, but I enjoyed it.   
We should be seeing some small time jumps in the next chapter, though nothing too dramatic yet. I still have some important past events to get to.  
Next up will be Memories Make Us, Best Friends Since PreK or Anniversary I think.  
Send me feedback if you like. I love to hear it! See you all soon.


	20. Resignation

Shades Of Self Chapter 20  
Disclaimer: Ben 10 does not belong to me, although it is on my Christmas list…  
Well, this is officially my longest story now, yay! 

Warnings:  
\- Self harm  
\- Depression   
\- Emotional/mental manipulation

“It is not always possible to fight or to strive for something better. Sometimes it is all you can do to survive.”  
-A saying of Martok The Wanderer

Four Years Ago

Ben was mesmerized by his window. 

After Vilgax left, he stayed for a long time in front of the transparent wall, just looking, soothed by the wind-tossed branches and the ripples on the water. Eventually hunger made him retreat slightly, and he reluctantly investigated the covered dish that was waiting for him. Breakfast was what he had expected it to be, but he was able to bring the metal plate back to the window, and it helped to occupy his mind while he ate. 

The view wasn’t spectacular; just a slice of jungle and marsh now that the lizard-thing had flown away, but it was something outside of this room that he could look at, something different. There were living things out there, and when they moved with the wind it seemed to loosen something in Ben’s chest that he didn’t even know had been wound up tightly. It soothed some of his feelings of being confined and relaxed him a little.

It was also the only thing in this room that felt like it was his. 

After that awful day of his failed escape attempt, when he had lost the clothes he had been captured in and had been commanded to never run away, Ben had felt especially vulnerable, poised on the edge of a precipice, with only a slight shove needed to send him over. There was nothing physical left of his home that he could cling to, and nothing to bring him even a modicum of comfort. The only thing he had left was the omnitrix which Vilgax, for whatever reason, had decided not to take away. But even the comfort the omntrix brought him was diluted by Vilgax’s restrictions on using it. He wasn’t able to escape into his alien forms except when his captor permitted it. And, of course, the omnitrix was the reason he was here. Vilgax would never have been interested in him if the device hadn’t latched onto him in the first place. The omnitrix was his, but it did not distract from his situation.

Now Ben had something else that felt like it belonged to him, that wasn’t just food or a bed or this hateful room and he wanted it, despite the fact that it was a gift from his captor.

Vilgax had _given_ him something. Why? What reason could Vilgax have for giving his captive a gift?

That thought made him grit his teeth, that feeling of resentment butting back in. But regardless of how or why it had happened, he wanted his window. It broke up the monotony of the tiny room he was trapped in and made the confinement slightly more bearable. He wanted that feeling.

And that was the problem. 

Ben didn’t know why Vilgax had given him his window, but he knew that the monster could take it away just as easily, and that realization was frightening. He shouldn’t let himself get too attached.

Tearing his gaze away from the green, moist leaves, Ben crossed the small room to his bed. He sat cross-legged on the mattress, forcing his eyes away from the transparent space in his wall. He looked down at his hands instead. He needed to think this through. As inscrutable as the alien’s motives often were, maybe he could figure out why Vilgax had done this, and what might make him take it back. He grimaced, one hand closing unconsciously around his collar. Why was Vilgax doing this to him? _All_ of this? Was it really just because he wanted Ben to be his pet?

Was the window…a reward? 

Ben’s mouth felt suddenly dry. He had called Vilgax ‘master’ last night, and slept in the alien’s room, actually in the alien’s _lap._ And this morning he had gone _willingly_ with Vilgax to that meeting room. He had even let the alien pet him without trying to fight him.

Did Vilgax think he had finally given up and stopped fighting?

 _Had_ he given up?

Ben groaned and bundled his blanket in his lap with one arm, burying his face in it. His other hand tightened around his collar.

Did it even matter if he figured out the alien’s motives? He wouldn’t be able to change anything. Vilgax would do whatever he wanted anyway. Ben was stuck here, trapped with no way out and no one to help him. Vilgax could do anything he liked to him and Ben’s only option was to stand there and take it. If the alien decided to take away his window he would, and there would be nothing Ben could do to stop him. Vilgax could treat him like a dog, lock him up in a cage, pick him up and pet him as much as he wanted. Ben couldn’t stop him. Ben’s gaze darted to the door and his breaths quickened, although he didn’t notice. If Vilgax wanted him to stay trapped in this room forever, that’s what would happen. He wouldn’t even need to close the door. If Vilgax wanted to deny him food or water; if the alien wanted Ben to sit here and slowly starve to death then that was exactly what would happen. All he had to do was say the word.

Ben felt dizzy suddenly and gasped in a great lungful of air. He became aware of the ache in his neck where the collar was digging into it, of the ache in his hand which was wrapped around it, and released the smooth metal immediately. His fingers were stiff. Slowly, he drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping both arms around them protectively.   
_I can’t do this._

The thought came again, from that place it always seemed to be waiting in, and normally Ben would have tried to brush it away, but this time it engulfed him, along with that familiar helpless dread.

“What am I supposed to do?”

He didn’t even know who he was asking, only that he desperately needed an answer. He couldn’t escape, couldn’t so much as _try._ Would someone come to rescue him if he kept holding out? Was anyone even looking for him? Grandpa and Gwen must think he was dead by now. So far as they knew, that had always been Vilgax’s objective. They had surely looked for him at first, maybe even tried to intercept the ship, but they must have lost hope after all this time. Grandpa wouldn’t risk going up against Vilgax for the sake of a dead grandson.

_No one’s coming to save you. They’re not looking for you anymore. You’re alone._

He buried his face in his knees, breath hitching but eyes dry. The dizziness was back. He felt light-headed from his rapid, panicked breaths, but he didn’t even notice them. Ben had always hated being alone. He didn’t really have any friends in school, but that hadn’t been by choice. Ben liked people. He wanted to be around them, hear their voices, pass them on the street, _talk to them._ It felt like ages since he had even seen another person. The loneliness was like a dark empty pit inside him, a pit that was slowly growing deeper.

Truly he’d known there was no rescue coming for a while, just as he’d known the power Vilgax held over him. He hadn’t let them in, but the thoughts had always been there, waiting. 

_I want to go home._

Ben fisted his hands in the soft material of his black pants. 

_I want to go home! I don’t want this. I don’t want it. I don’t want to be here anymore!_

He pressed his head into his knees until he could feel the kneecaps pushing hard against his skull. 

_I just want this to be over._

But there was something else he had known and hadn’t wanted to think about; something else which twisted inside him like a hot poker in his stomach.

_It doesn’t matter what you want._

It hadn’t mattered since that day which felt so long ago, since he had surrendered to his enemy in Bellwood. From that moment on he hadn’t had a single choice, hadn’t been able to change a single thing. He had pushed back against Vilgax, but hadn’t accomplished anything, hadn’t even caused an inconvenience for his enemy. He’d simply been swept along in an overwhelming tide. From the very beginning, there had only been one way forward.

_The only choice you have is to obey._

Ben suddenly lurched forward, hands gripping his sheets as he leant over the edge of his bed and threw up. 

He hung there for a minute gagging, stomach still heaving, feeling like his brain was floating between his ears. He coughed at the acid in his throat and spat into the mess, hands trembling as they gripped the sheets. He took a few slow, deep breaths. He was shaking a little. He spat again, then drew back gingerly onto the bed. His stomach was tight and it hurt, but he didn’t think he was actually sick. He felt stressed almost to the point of panic and his heart was sore in his chest. He had felt overstressed before, pushed past his limit, but nothing like this, even when things were at their worst.

A few tears had formed in his aching eyes again, and Ben closed them, trying to ignore the foul taste in his mouth. He didn’t want to cry. It seemed like lately that was all he did. His stomach gave a twinge and he leant back against the wall, trying to give it some relief, and concentrated on slowing his breathing. In, hold, release. The breaths were shaky at first, but gradually steadied. After a minute the pain subsided somewhat as well. The dark thoughts had also retreated for the moment; no longer swamping him, but they were still there. Ben thought they always would be. 

Ben didn’t want to move, but he needed something to rinse out his mouth, and so he pushed himself up slowly. In the bathroom, he cupped his hands under the tap, rinsed out his mouth and drank a little too, relieving the burning sensation in his throat. The water tasted especially sweet. After rinsing, he scrubbed his wet hands over his face. It felt good and he wet them under the tab again and repeated the action. Then he did it a third time before stopping reluctantly. 

Ben rubbed his face roughly with a cloth, then looked up into the small mirror. His face was pale and his mouth was set in a tight line. He still had some bags under his eyes, and these were red and sore. 

“What now?” he asked softly. His voice sounded strange in the silence of his room.

He stood for a moment, almost as though he was waiting for an answer, though he knew there wouldn’t be one. He was the only one here, after all. Ben turned away stiffly. He grabbed another of the grey cloths from their stone shelf, wet it under the tap, and went back into the main part of his room to clean up the mess by his bed.

Once the stone floor was clean, Ben noticed that a mist had settled into the marsh outside his window. He sat back on his bed, tucking his legs underneath him, and watched the white curls of moisture. He tried not to think. Time passed slowly, but at least it was still passing.

Evening came eventually. Ben’s stomach was still knotted and a little sore, though he hadn’t thrown up again. He still felt tense, and he kept catching himself breathing too quickly and had to force himself to slow down. He ate his supper with difficulty. 

His room still felt small and cramped. It still felt like a cage. And it was lonely. It was dull and quite; too quiet with only him here. Ben rubbed his arms. The dark thoughts were swirling again, and there were no distractions to keep them at bay. The window had helped for a while, but the view wasn’t changeable enough to occupy his mind, or to truly distract him from the small space he was confined in. His chest ached. He closed his right hand reflexively around his left arm, just above the omnitrix. Slowly he dragged his fingers across the skin, nails digging in just enough to leave angry white lines. He stopped abruptly at the pain, and felt another rush of shame at the scratches he had left, which turned from white to red as he watched. They stung. Ben sucked in a painful breath. 

He needed to get out of here, at least for a little while. Unfortunately, there was only one other place he was allowed to go. He didn’t want to see Vilgax again, but being here with only his thoughts for company was worse. He couldn’t be alone here any longer, and Vilgax was all there was. 

Slowly, almost mechanically, Ben crossed to the stone door and pushed it open. He didn’t let himself think about what he was doing, about how shameful it was. He didn’t let himself think at all. This was the only thing he could do. 

As he walked through the dimly lit corridors, Ben found his misery lessening just slightly. Walking felt good, like he was doing something, going somewhere. His mind was pleasantly blank at least for those few minutes, and the sound of his footsteps on the stone blocks was soothing. 

He paused when he reached the corridor to Vilgax’s rooms, unpleasant memories of last night rising once again. He let them rush through him for a moment, then they subsided. They didn’t really matter right now. He knew that he was going to continue on despite them. It didn’t seem to matter what Vilgax did to him; he couldn’t be in that room any more, and he couldn’t be alone any more. Still, his steps were hesitant down that final corridor, and his heart seemed to beat more quickly.

The door was expectantly ajar again, and Ben pushed it open as quietly as he could. It opened onto a delicately misty space, lit by the red light of a sinking sun. Vilgax was not at his desk this evening. He was seated on one end of the leathery couch, studying what looked like a large tablet. When he saw Ben, Vilgax’s tentacle tips rippled gently.

“Come in Ben.” The rough voice was low and soft, almost a purr, and Ben bit his lip and nodded, sidling into the room, but staying near the door. He sat with his back to the wall, as he had the last time he was here. For a while they sat in silence, Vilgax apparently engrossed in his tablet and Ben watching the vivid sunset gradually dim. Strangely, Ben found himself relaxing a little, although he still remained wary of the alien across the room. 

The sun set, but once it was fully down, Ben noticed that there was a surprising amount of light still in the sky. He wondered if it was caused by a second sun, still up, or an especially bright moon, or something else unique to this planet. He felt an ache in his chest, familiar and painful. He wanted to be out there, exploring and finding the answers to his questions. How long was Vilgax planning to keep him trapped in here? The thought trickled into his mind that he should get used to it. Lots of pets weren’t allowed outside. 

Ben hugged his knees more tightly and took a calming breath. He looked up again and found Vilgax looking at him. When Ben met his gaze, the alien stretched one hand out towards him, wiggling the fingers slightly.

“Come here, boy,” he said, still in that soft rumble.

Ben looked back at him dully, feeling dread pool in his stomach. It didn’t really sound like an order, but Vilgax had yet to tell him to do anything without being prepared to back it up with a command. No doubt there would be one coming if he didn’t obey. Ben wasn’t really surprised though. He had known this would probably happen, and he had come anyway. 

His captor was waiting, and Ben forced himself to his feet and made his way over. It wasn’t as though he had a choice, and he didn’t think he could face the futile resistance and the command that would follow. And he didn’t really want to make Vilgax angry. He didn’t want to lose his window.

When the boy was close enough, Vilgax’s hand extended again and Ben flinched, tensing as it ran over his hair, but didn’t struggle as it then closed around him. He sucked in a deep breath and held it when he was lifted and set on the leathery cushion. The hand released him. He was very close to Vilgax now, but at least not actually in the alien’s lap like last night. Ben fisted his hands in the loose material of his pants again and looked down, staring at his feet, which were hanging over the edge of the couch.

“Good boy,” Vilgax purred and Ben’s clenched hands tightened as his hair was stroked again. “Don’t be afraid. I will never hurt you.”

Ben didn’t respond, instead focusing on keeping his breathing steady. Vilgax didn’t seem to mind. After a few minutes he stopped stroking Ben and went back to his tablet. Ben relaxed his clenched hands, but continued to sit where Vilgax had placed him, tense and shooting sidelong glances at his captor every now and then.

Much to Ben’s relief, Vilgax did not make him stay there for the night. After what felt like a long time, when the mysterious light from outside had disappeared and it was well and truly dark, Ben stirred and made a cautious move as if to climb off of the couch. Vilgax glanced up, but didn’t try to stop him, and Ben slid to the ground. 

“Sleep well, little one.” 

Ben felt his face heat up at his captor’s words, and a strange ache throbbed in his chest. He ducked his head, but didn’t respond, and he didn’t look back at Vilgax as he retreated out the door. He headed back to his room, forced himself through the door and bundled himself into his bed, cooling his face on the pillow. There was moon or starlight shining through his window, and despite everything it was soothing. Ben’s head was aching a little, and his chest and stomach still felt unnaturally tight. He pulled the blankets up to his chin and hugged the omnitrix close to his chest. He watched the square of soft, silver light until his eyes closed involuntarily. 

He didn’t notice when he fell asleep.

The next three days formed a sort of routine. After breakfast in the mornings, Vilgax arrived. As he had the night after Ben’s breakdown, the alien gave Ben the option of accompanying him wherever he was going before the boy’s training. Ben agreed each time. He didn’t like following his captor around, or the looks he got from those they passed, but it was still better than staying trapped in his room. At least he was able to see people, even if he was kept at a distance from them, and he was given some time away from his cramped, lonely room.

One morning, Vilgax inspected a new armoured vehicle of some kind in the basement of the giant building. It looked something like a tank, but was sleeker and more aerodynamic. The aliens who were building it seemed very eager to show off their work, and stumbled over each other in their explanations. The next morning, Vilgax met with several Swampfire aliens to discuss some kind of building project which was taking place elsewhere on the planet. Ben enjoyed the detailed holograms, although it made him a little sad that the development required cutting through a big swathe of lush jungle. On earth he wouldn’t have even taken notice of it, but here his thoughts tended to dwell on things like that. On the third morning, Vilgax met with several aliens in hologram form who were projecting from some of his ships and listened to their reports. One of them was the insect-like alien Trisaara, and Ben felt his heart sink as he learned that her invasion had been successful, the plumber force routed, and Prosious conquered. One consolation was that he didn’t hear anything about Grandpa Max, and Ben let himself continue hoping that he hadn’t been involved in the plumber’s defense force.

After these ‘errands,’ Vilgax always took him to the arena for training. His captor had started giving him a longer amount of time to use the omnitrix now, for which Ben was relieved. He was allowed to remain in his alien forms until he was tired from the training, and didn’t really mind turning back. Ben still missed being able to change whenever he wanted, but at least he no longer felt like an over-inflated balloon in between sessions. The training was also more varied than the simple fighting Ben had experienced initially, and provided some much needed relief for him mentally as well as physically.

Once training was finished, Ben was returned to his room. He showered, ate and watched his window, pacing when the boredom and silence got to him. He had times of heightened stress and tension, but nothing bad enough that he was sick again. His days were bearable. However, by the time evening came, Ben always found himself returning to his captor’s room, unable to stay in that little stone box any longer. He would sit by the door until Vilgax called him over, which usually took a little while. Ben never moved closer on his own, but he didn’t resist the order when it came, even though he knew what would follow. The alien would then pick him up and seat him beside himself, and Ben would remain there until he left for bed. While Ben was seated beside him, Vilgax would stroke his head and back intermittently, and speak to him in that quiet voice that made Ben’s chest hurt. Ben sat stiffly during this, and his eyes were usually focused on his feet or on the evening sky outside. It was easier if he pretended it wasn’t happening. His evenings certainly weren’t pleasant but, like his days, they were bearable. 

When Ben finally got back to his room he would huddle into his bed until sleep claimed him. He hated that he had become so obedient, so docile, and every time Vilgax touched him it left his skin crawling. Once away from the alien’s presence and buried in his bed the guilt and misery would slowly swallow him up like a stagnant swamp which clung to his mind until he managed to fall asleep, but it was never enough to stop him from going back the next evening.

On the fourth day, something changed.

Ben wanted out. Not just out of his room, but out of this suffocating building; out into the tantalizing jungle that he could only see a tiny slice of from his or Vilgax’s window. It was a longing that tugged at his heart during the long hours he spent staring outside. He knew it was only a pale echo of his real desires, of his need to be at home with his family, but that didn’t make it any less potent.

Ben felt that this desire had been building for a while, ever since they had landed on this planet and he had felt the gentle rain, but he hadn’t let himself voice it, even inside his head. He knew what he would have to do if he requested something of Vilgax, and that was one more piece of himself that he didn’t want to give his captor. However, by that fourth day his determination was weakening. Would it really be so awful to make that concession one more time? It wasn’t as though it would be admitting something he hadn’t already. He bit his lip at the thought and looked down at his clasped hands. 

Ben was currently seated beside the alien, one of Vilgax’s clawed hands rhythmically stroking down his back, and it seemed so useless to stand on his pride. 

_I’m not going anywhere._ The thought was back. He wasn’t going to be saved, and he wasn’t able to escape from here. He wasn’t even trying anymore, hadn’t been for a while. This was his life now. At least for…for now, and this was something he might be able to do to make it just that tiny bit less awful.

He glanced up at his…at Vilgax, and he wasn’t sure whether he was fighting to say the words or to keep them in.

“Master?” He winced as he said it, as if the word was painful, and it seemed too loud in his ears even though he knew he’d spoken barely above a whisper. The reaction was immediate. Vilgax’s hand stilled, although it remained resting against the small of Ben’s back.

“Yes, Ben?” The alien’s voice was calm, his voice unreadable. Only the tips of his tentacles quivered as though they were vibrating.

“Can I…” Ben closed his eyes, gathering himself under the expectant red gaze. His tongue slipped out, moistening suddenly dry lips. “Will you let me go outside?” He looked up again sharply after speaking, though he found it hard to meet the alien’s eye. Vilgax was silent for a few moments and Ben could practically feel him thinking. He didn’t breathe as he waited.

Then Vilgax removed his hand. Reaching out with the other, he placed one claw under Ben’s chin, tilting his face upward just slightly. His red eyes were intense and Ben blinked under the scrutiny, though he didn’t pull away.

“I am afraid not, little one. At least, not yet.” Ben blinked again, rapidly. He felt as though his chest was being squeezed in a vice. “However,” Vilgax continued, “I will consider. Your conduct is much improved lately.” He stroked Ben’s cheek with one claw, still holding his chin with the same hand. Ben flinched slightly, but remained still. “Continue to behave well, and we will see.” 

Ben didn’t respond. He swallowed with difficulty around the hard lump in his throat. He would have liked to say something back; something snide or defiant, but he didn’t seem to have any of those comments left inside him. Besides, it wouldn’t mean anything anymore; not after giving in the way he had. Vilgax took his hand away and Ben breathed out a shaky breath. He felt slightly light-headed and dropped his gaze again. Vilgax began to stroke Ben’s back again, and Ben jumped at the first touch before stilling. He sat stiffly on the couch and let it happen, and tried to focus on keeping his breaths deep and even. 

He wasn’t okay; wasn’t even close, but he was managing, and that was all he could do for now.

Thank you so much for reading! I’m so happy that everyone is reading and enjoying this story. I couldn’t do it without you all.   
Wow, Ben’s panic attack surprised me. He’s been here long enough now that it’s starting to sink in. Certainly he’s gone through enough to have a few breakdowns. I hope the scene worked. I tried some different things with it. I think Ben’s been spending too much time alone. Too bad there’s only one other person he can spend time with.  
There will probably start being some time jumps in the next chapter. Just little ones to start. I did a little summarizing with Ben’s three days. I hope it worked okay. I felt like I needed to start summarizing some things, but it’s hard because my inclination is to tell everything that happens to him. I easily could have spent a chapter on each of those days. ;)  
Right now I am doing my once a month updating of one of my stories, and it’s been working so far. When I have more time, updating will speed up. Next up is probably Memories Make Us, Anniversary or chapter 21 for this story!  
See you soon!


	21. Waiting

Shades Of Self Chapter 21  
Disclaimer: I do not own Ben 10. I have now admitted my sorrow…  
Welcome to chapter 21! Wow, this story is so nice and long now, at least for me! It’s an unexpected present-day chapter too! I felt like past Ben needed a little break, but he’ll be back next chapter, so don’t worry.   
Enjoy and I will see you all at the bottom! 

“Truly the greatest bliss results from allowing our leaders to make difficult decisions in our stead, and following where we are directed.”  
\- Doctrine of The Great Ones

Warnings:  
\- Aftermath of emotional/mental manipulation  
\- Ben being treated like a pet

Present Day

Ben woke slowly. He felt wonderfully warm and comfortable, and snuggled deeper into the soft, leathery substance beneath him. As he became more aware of himself his location resolved itself into Master’s private chambers. Of course, he had accompanied Master back to his rooms, but he had not meant to fall asleep.

Stretching slightly, he glanced around the oval chamber and sighted Master at his desk, examining a tablet intently. Ben sat up, but did not rise fully. He ran a hand through disheveled hair and yawned. He was hesitant to leave the relaxing certainty he felt in Master’s presence, the assurance that everything would be fine. A small part of him just wanted to lie back down and go back to sleep. However, at his movement, the warlord turned to him, tentacles rippling in amusement.

“You must have been tired, little one.”

Ben nodded, slightly abashed. He had only expected to relax for a few minutes. He didn’t remember dropping off. He didn’t even know how long he had been out.

Master put out a hand and Ben hopped off of the couch, trotting up beside the large chair and enjoying the contact as his head was rubbed. 

“Are you feeling better, Ben?” Master stroked his cheek with one finger and Ben leaned into the touch.

“Yes, Master,” he said with a small smile. He did feel better, but the thought of the prisoners was still at the back of his mind. He would like to know what was to happen to them, but he wouldn’t ask; he shouldn’t even care.  
“Well then,” Master continued, his voice a gentle rumble. His hand continued to move, the petting gentle and methodical. “Is there something you need to talk about?”

Ben considered. “No, Master,” he answered honestly. There were a few concerns floating around in his head, but they weren’t anything that he should bother Master with. The probable spy was still at large, or had been when he had fallen asleep, but he didn’t have any new information, and the crew was already doing everything possible in that area. As for his preoccupation with the Tennysons, Master would decide what to do, and once a decision was made, Ben would feel better, he was sure.

“Are you certain?” Master pressed. “You may tell me if something distresses you.”

Ben smiled again. “Yes, I’m certain, Master.” 

“Very well.” The warlord gave Ben one final pat, then rose, placing the tablet on the desktop. “Then I must go, and you should return to your duties, Pet.”

Ben nodded, grinning a little sheepishly. He shifted into his kineceleran (1) form and flashed out of the door and down the ship’s corridors. He stopped briefly at his room to have a quick snack and to splash some water on his face. He still felt a little spaced out from his nap, and the water helped him to feel more alert. Then he was back out in the winding corridors. He considered where best to patrol first, then headed for the crew quarters of the ship and flashed off in that direction, arriving after a short interval. He slowed and morphed into a loboan (2), then began a quick patrol, sensitive nose twitching slightly as he searched for unfamiliar scents, ears cocked for strange noises. Any crewmembers he encountered stayed respectfully clear of him, and he was left to inspect their rooms in peace.

An hour passed this way fairly pleasantly, but when Ben had finished investigating the crew quarters, he found himself still feeling uncharacteristically preoccupied. He growled to himself resentfully, wolf-like snout pulled back in a snarl that caused a nearby maintenance worker to hurriedly change direction.

What was wrong with him? Was it so unsettling for him to meet people from his past? They didn’t matter any more, or at least they shouldn’t. And it wasn’t as if it was the first time, either. Hadn’t he learned from what happened with Kevin? Ben’s ears twitched distractedly at the memory and he stilled them, annoyed. No one mattered; that’s what he had learned. No one except for Master. It had not been an easy lesson, but it had been a necessary one, and one which had stuck with him through all of the subsequent tests placed in his path. It had brought him a measure of peace and contentment over the past few years. 

When Master wanted him to do something he did it, regardless of what it was. He had learned not to think about the beings he killed or to care about what he did, so long as it was at Master’s orders. If he let himself care he would only hurt himself.

It was a lesson he had thought he had learned by heart. So why couldn’t he brush these thoughts away? 

Abruptly, Ben morphed into the tiny fob again and flitted through the maze of corridors. He stayed near the ceiling, sharp eyes and sensitive ears helping him to scan the various inhabitants of the flagship as they passed beneath him. At first, he had no clear destination in mind as he fluttered through the depths of the ship, but eventually he found himself winding his way towards a particular section of the ship. He paused for a moment, debating choosing another direction but then continued on with a frustrated shake of his furry head.

He supposed another inspection wouldn’t hurt.

Time passed slowly for Gwen. 

There was no way to tell time in her barren cell, and although she thought it had probably only been a few hours since Ben had locked her up here and left, it felt like much longer.

She spent a good deal of her time alone alternately testing her restraints and thinking. She tried to cast spells several more times in the hope of overloading or bypassing the magical safeguards. Her attempts were unsuccessful, but she did discover that she received the same intensity of shock, regardless of the power of the spell she was casting. That was something. At least it meant that she didn’t have to worry about doing permanent damage to herself in her escape attempts. She had yet to find a spell powerful enough to break through the restraints, but that didn’t mean it didn’t exist. Some of her spells required more elaborate movements to cast, and her position was making that difficult. She rested after each attempt, regaining her breath and gearing herself up for the next try.

While she was resting, Gwen’s thoughts always seemed to wander back to her cousin. The four years he had been gone had obviously been hard on him, much harder than they had been on her. Four years was such a long time! Ben had been here with that monster the whole time, losing hope, waiting for a rescue that never came. Had he tried to escape? Had he fought back? Gwen was sure he had. She bit her lip. If only they had known he was alive! 

When she had first arrived at the shattered remains of his house Gwen had hardly been able to believe it. She had not been in time to see him, or the ship which must have carried him away, but there had been no shortage of witnesses who had seen him become human, and seen Vilgax and his robots capture him and drag him onto the small red craft. 

There was no time to hesitate. Grandpa had contacted some people that he knew from his plumber days. They had access to a spaceship of their own and had set off to intercept Vilgax, but he had clearly been expecting pursuit. The plumbers had barely made it out of the ambush with their ships intact, and they never even got within sensing distance of the flagship. And by then Vilgax was gone, untraceable in the vast reaches of space.   
And Ben was dead.

Or so they had thought.

Gwen’s heart clenched. For four whole years he had been here, all alone, at the mercy of a monster on a quest for galactic domination.

She had no idea what torture Ben had endured, what had happened to him to change him so much, and now wasn’t the time to dwell on that question. Now was not the time to beat herself up for not saving him before. What she needed to know was whether she would be able to escape, and whether she could find Ben if she did. Could she possibly get through to him?

Gwen let out a frustrated huff of breath. She knew it would be next to impossible to get Ben to listen to her, not after everything that must have happened to him. She might not even get another chance to speak to him alone. Even if she did, the chance that she could convince him of anything was miniscule at best, and trying to get his attention if she managed to escape would be incredibly risky. If she managed to find a way out of her restraints, her best bet would be to find Grandpa and escape. Yet she couldn’t quite bring herself to write Ben off the way she was sure Grandpa had. Every time she tried to look at her situation objectively, Ben crept back into her thoughts. The truth was she had thought of little else since she had first seen him. She wanted to see him again, to talk to him. She thought of the brief moment when he was escorting her to her cell and the spark had returned to his voice. He had seemed like himself for that one moment, even though it hadn’t lasted.

Then she thought again about how he had looked, standing confidently at Vilgax’s side. He had not hesitated to electrocute Grandpa, and had not seemed the least bit bothered to have captured the two of them. He acted very different from the Ben she knew, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still, well, Ben. He was loyal to Vilgax now, and she couldn’t find it in herself to blame him, not with what he must have gone through, but he was still the same person, no matter how he had changed, he had to be. If she could just get him away from here, Gwen felt sure that the plumbers would be able to help him. 

However, that first part; getting him away, seemed next to impossible at the moment. 

Gwen rested her head against the cold metal wall. She braced herself, moving her fingers awkwardly and murmuring the words to a communication spell. The power started to build inside her and Gwen had only a second to grit her teeth before the pain hit. 

When Ben reached the detention area he paused again. 

This part of the ship was fairly quiet, the dark gray corridors nearly empty. There was a guard monitoring the surveillance screens of the prisoner’s cells, and there were bipedal drones guarding the hallways, but most crewmembers were focused on detecting any further attempts at infiltration and searching for potential spies. If the prisoners escaped, it would be with outside help. 

Ben remained hovering near the high ceiling. He didn’t quite know what to do now that he was here. 

Master had not forbidden him from coming here, and he was used to going wherever he wanted to in the ship, especially when he was patrolling. There was nothing unusual in coming here to inspect the detention block. Still, what he was doing still smacked of deceit. He didn’t like this desire he had to see the prisoners once more. It left him feeling guilty, as though he were going behind Master’s back. 

At that thought he landed, shifting into his Mira form with a growl. 

He didn’t know what he was feeling for the people who had once been his family, but whatever it was, it didn’t matter. Master would decide what to do with them, and he would obey, as always. 

Turning, Ben headed back the way he had come, tails swishing in agitation. 

For the rest of the day, he kept himself busy and kept a tight reign on his thoughts. He was angry at himself for the feelings he couldn’t control, and nothing he did seemed to dampen them. He hadn’t felt this restless in what seemed like years.

As evening deepened, Ben made his way back towards Master’s rooms. He knew Master was going to contact the resistance in the morning, and he could no longer fight off his curiosity. He needed to know what Master had decided to do. And he needed the comfort of the warlord’s presence. He didn’t want to be alone anymore.

Master was eating, which reminded Ben suddenly that the only food he had had today was what he had grabbed after his nap. He really must have been preoccupied. Master did not see him at first, but then turned to him with a question on his face, tentacle tips twitching slightly.

Ben’s alien form dissolved and he ducked his head, moving across the room to push his face into the large hand that was held out to him. 

“What is it, Ben?” the warlord asked gently. He bent slightly, lifting Ben to sit in his lap. One hand rested on his back, stroking soothingly. 

Ben raised his gaze to meet Master’s, feeling slightly embarrassed all of a sudden. He didn’t know how to begin.

“I’m sorry Master,” he said softly. “I’m just feeling disconcerted.” He paused for a moment to gather his feelings, then “I don’t like having the Tennysons here,” he finished. He grimaced a little at the admission. His feelings weren’t important, and he shouldn’t be troubling Master with them.

“Ah.” Master’s tentacles rippled all along their length, and Ben could tell the warlord was amused, although there was affection in the expression as well. The gentle petting continued for a moment, and then Vilgax said “It is alright. I understand what you are feeling. Things will go back to normal soon, and you will feel better.”

Ben nodded, relaxing at the assurance. “Okay, thank you Master,” he whispered. He snuggled a little deeper into Master’s arms. He felt relieved. Even if he couldn’t chase away the feelings right now, they would go away soon. Master’s hand kept stroking, and both were of them were silent for a few minutes. Then the rough voice continued.

“The Tennysons won’t be here for much longer,” Master mused, as though to himself, and Ben tilted his head to look up at the warlord. Did that mean…? “Yes,” Master confirmed, speaking to Ben this time. “Tomorrow the resistance shall witness the execution of their comrades. It will be a just punishment for what they attempted.” 

Ben didn’t say anything. He leant back against armored chest. He had wanted to know what would happen to the prisoners but, like their presence on the ship, he didn’t know how he felt about this news. In the end, he supposed it wasn’t important. His feelings didn’t matter; they never did.

(1) XLR8  
(2) Blitzwolfer 

Thanks for reading! Wow, it is so lovely to hear from all of you, especially after the milestone of last chapter. I know it was a very creepy chapter, so hopefully this one was a little easier to read. Present day Ben is getting easier to write for, and I hope his character still works. He’s gone through a lot, and we should see a little more of that next chapter.  
And we got to visit Gwen again! It’s been a while.   
Things will start to move in the present-day plot soon. We will certainly see some more flashbacks though. There are still many things in the past I want to explore.  
See you all next time!


	22. Changes

Shades Of Self Chapter 22  
Disclaimer: If I could choose a cartoon franchise to own, I might pick Ben 10. I’ll have to think about it…  
I’m so glad everyone enjoyed my last chapter. It’s nice to finally be able to move the present day plot forward a little. We should be seeing more frequent chapters set in the present day as well, but for now, we have returned to the past!  
See you at the bottom!

“A weary mind is easy to infiltrate.”  
\- Doctrine of the Priests of Thioss

Warnings:  
\- Depression  
\- Emotional/mental manipulation  
\- Ben being treated like a pet

Four Years Ago

Time passed. 

Ben wasn’t sure how long it had been since his second surrender. He thought it had been at least a few weeks, but he had no way to mark the days and they blended together into a haze of boredom and misery with a few events standing out stark and clear. 

First had come a change in his diet. This happened only a few days after his failed request to go outside. He awakened one morning in the cramped silence of his room, expecting this day to be just like the others, but when he lifted the lid on the usual covered dish, he stopped in confusion. He had grown used to seeing the assortment of spongy food lumps, and used to spending a few minutes at every meal forcing himself to eat them. They weren’t awful, but they were dull and had become increasingly unappetizing as the days passed. 

However, they weren’t what confronted him now. Instead, the plate supported a generous portion of what looked, for lack of a better word, like _food._ There was a pile of small pale-yellow granules, reminiscent of some kind of grain, some green plants that made Ben think of asparagus crossed with broccoli, and a roughly oval slice of something golden brown. Ben felt his mouth water as an aroma reminiscent of chicken reached his nose, along with several other alluring scents which he couldn’t name, but recognized distinctly as delicious. He froze for a moment, all his senses focused on the meal.

How long had it been since he had actually _wanted_ to eat something and wasn’t just doing it to fill his stomach or because he had been ordered to? This was probably the first time since before his capture. His mum had made pancakes for breakfast in celebration of his first day back at school. He pushed the picture away, feeling a twinge in his chest, and focused back on the meal in front of him.

Back when he had first been captured, Ben would have been suspicious of the change, worried about how his body might react to the alien food, or wondering if this was some kind of trap, but now the thoughts didn’t even enter his head. If Vilgax was feeding it to him, then he was sure it was safe. The alien had made it clear he wanted Ben not just alive, but healthy.

Ben didn’t know what had triggered the change in his food; whether he had done something Vilgax liked, or whether this had simply been the next step in the alien’s plans. Certainly, he had been fairly _obedient_ lately, much as it galled him. Still, he didn’t hesitate to lift out the metal plate and put it down on the small shelf he had started using as a standing table. It was still hot and the enticing smells were stronger as he lifted it. There was cutlery too, another first. The fork and knife were strangely stylized, but clearly made for human hands. As he lifted out the knife, serrated and reasonably sharp, Ben briefly entertained the thought of hiding it and trying to stab his captor the next time Vilgax picked him up, then dismissed it. That was a stupid idea. The knife stood no chance of penetrating the alien’s thick skin, and even if it did, what good would that do? All that would happen was that Vilgax might get angry and switch back to Ben’s original food, or do something else to punish him. 

Ben dug his fork into the pile of yellow grains. He lifted the loaded fork to his mouth, hesitating for a moment before popping it in. the grains seemed to explode with flavour, buttery and spicy, and they were delightfully crisp with a soft inside. He smiled in ecstasy. He took several more bites in quick succession. He tried the vegetables, and what he was sure was a piece of meat, though he didn’t know what kind. Everything was delicious and he took another bite, closing his eyes as he chewed. 

Suddenly Ben’s smile froze as his pleasure ground to a halt. He swallowed the bite of food roughly, feeling shame wash over him. He had been enjoying the food. He had even been _smiling._ He shouldn’t be doing that. Vilgax could be watching him. He probably _was_ watching. Ben’s gaze flashed briefly around his room. He had never been able to find spy cameras, but he was sure they were there. Viglax had been pretty obviously aware of everything Ben did.

He was a prisoner here, and there was nothing he could do about that right now, but that wasn’t what Vilgax wanted him for. He wanted a pet, and Ben didn’t want to give him that. He couldn’t fight Vilgax, and he couldn’t bring himself to defy the alien anymore, not when there was nothing he could do to fight back or escape, not when everything he tried had been useless. Vilgax could do what he wanted to him, but Ben didn’t, shouldn’t enjoy it; any of it. Grandpa would be so disappointed if he could see Ben now, see how much like Vilgax’s pet he looked right now.

Ben let out a slow breath, tightening his fist reflexively on the fork. The food was so good.

It wasn’t as though he wanted to be miserable, but…

He thought of Ferdinand at home; rubbing against their legs, begging for treats and walks and enjoying getting his tummy rubbed. The picture used to be cute in Ben’s mind, but now it gave him the creeps. He didn’t want to ever become like that, and he had an idea that was exactly what Vilgax wanted.

_“You are so unhappy because you are still trying to fight me. You will find it much more pleasant when you obey.”_

Ben shook his head to chase out the memory. _I don’t want to be happy; not here, and not with you._

Slowly, he took another bite of his breakfast. It was still delicious, especially after weeks of eating the other stuff, but his grim thoughts had succeeded in taking the smile off of his face. He finished the food silently, and replaced the dishes in their container. He couldn’t let his guard down, even when he was alone. He had to remember that.

Ben had been worried that the food might be a one-time thing, but the change continued in the days that followed, with each meal being different and obviously not made from foods found on earth, but still tasty. Ben relished the food every time, but tried to keep his face neutral as he ate, and he couldn’t help feeling ashamed every time he savoured a new or interesting flavour. 

Another week or so passed, and there was another change. 

Ben’s training had been getting more elaborate. He now spent several hours in the training arena each day, after Vilgax finished whatever errands he had that morning. The arena and course changed frequently, as did the program Vilgax had for him. Sometimes Vilgax would order Ben to turn into a particular alien, and the training exercises would be tailored to the alien he chose. Other times Ben would be allowed to shift freely as he fought hordes of drones or worked his way through an obstacle course. Some of the Robots Ben fought seemed very specialized, and he had started wondering whether Vilgax was using him to test new models, or developing particular robots especially for him, although that idea was a little harder to swallow.

It worried Ben to think of what the alien was training him for, what he might eventually be commanded to do, but it was also the most pleasant part of his day by far. It was the only time where he was allowed to shift, and the only time where he had some freedom of movement, even restricted as it was. The variety and regular changes gave him something different to look forward to. It kept his body and mind active and made the numbing boredom of the hours spent alone in his room slightly more bearable. 

When he trained, Ben felt the closest thing to happiness he had experienced since his capture. He could feel his control and understanding of his aliens growing, and he knew he was getting stronger and more powerful. Sometimes it was possible to almost forget why he was training, and to ignore the eyes of his ever-present captor.

Vilgax never left Ben alone to train, even though he could easily have restricted Ben with commands and left him to follow them. Instead, he always led Ben to the arena in person, and stayed to watch him train, even as the training sessions grew progressively longer. From what Ben saw of Vilgax, the alien had a fair amount of work that he completed each day, and it always sounded as if he were discussing something important when he spoke with his subordinates. Vilgax seemed to have a lot of plans in motion. His forces were gathering and consolidating around the planets he controlled, and it sounded like he was preparing for a large-scale operation. He had a lot meetings about various administerial duties as well, and was often busy with what appeared to essentially be paperwork in the evenings. It seemed strange to Ben that Vilgax spent so much time with his prisoner. Ben now spent only about four or five hours alone in his room, from lunch time to supper. The rest of his day was spent with Vilgax. 

Did Vilgax see it as a responsibility to spend time with his…with Ben? 

_Or does he actually enjoy it?_

Ben shot a glance at the alien. They had just arrived at the training arena, and Vilgax was in the process of opening the door. For once the red eyes were not focused on him. Vilgax walked through the door and Ben followed.

Today the arena was bare except for some elevations in the floor and protrusions from the walls. He would be fighting today then. Ben rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen up a little. He hoped Vilgax would let him choose his aliens today. He hadn’t been Wildvine in a few days and he missed the flexibility he felt in that form. 

“Come here, Ben.”

Ben turned in surprise, then walked gingerly over to where Vilgax was waiting.

“Show me the omnitrix.”

Biting back the question he wanted to ask, Ben held out his arm. Vilgax knelt and took a hold of the boy’s wrist gently, using his other hand to delicately tap the device’s screen, opening its settings as he had done previously.  
Ben watched, a trifle apprehensively. It would be nice if Vilgax would tell him what he was changing. He hated not knowing, but he knew his captor wouldn’t tell him if he asked. All it would do was annoy the alien. Vilgax released him and stood, and Ben jumped a little as the omnitrix started glowing, accepting whatever changes Vilgax had made. He opened his mouth to ask what the alien had done, even knowing he wouldn’t get an answer, but paused as he caught sight of the silhouette on the omnitrix’s screen. It looked tall and thin, and seemed to be wrapped in a hooded cloak.

“Is that a new alien?” Ben’s gaze shot towards Vilgax as he immediately regretted the excitement in his voice. Vilgax didn’t answer, as usual, but the tips of his tentacles rippled, and Ben got the unpleasant impression that the alien was amused. He felt his cheeks heat up slightly and dropped his eyes, back to the omnitrix’s screen.

“Morph,” Vilgax ordered, and for once Ben was glad to obey. The green light flashed and he felt his body twist into the new shape, bones stretching and thinning. He felt lighter, more agile, and a delightful cool feeling spread through him. The green flash faded and Ben looked down at himself. He was a deep blue with clawed hands and feet. He stretched and what had looked like cloth robes unfurled into huge, moth-like wings. The body underneath them was slender and wiry. He seemed to be built for speed and agility. He could feel a pleasant chill in the air around him, especially when he breathed.

“Good.” The approving growl cut through Ben’s examination, an unwelcome reminder of his circumstances. “Be ready,” the alien ordered, and Ben gave a flap of his wings, lifting effortlessly into the air. It was a very different feeling flight to what he experienced as Stinkfly; calm and silent instead of filled with frenetic energy. The walls of the arena slid up. 

_Flying drones today,_ Ben mused. _Makes sense I suppose._ He glanced down to where Vilgax had positioned himself against one wall, out of the way. He exhaled, watching the cold whisps of his breath.

“Okay then,” Ben said to himself, eyes on the cloud of drones as they flew upward to meet him. The words came out in a breathy hiss. “Let’s see what you can do.”

Once training was finished, and Ben was back in his room, he let himself fall backward onto his bed. He was tired and a little sore, and yet he felt full of energy. That had been so exhilarating. The new alien was awesome! It could not only freeze things solid, but fly right through them and turn invisible like Ghostfreak, although without the unpleasant memories. He lifted his left arm above his head so the hand dangled, eyes focused on the device around his wrist. _How many aliens are in this thing?_ he wondered. And would Vilgax let him activate any others?

He shook his head in self admonishment. He knew this was an awful situation He was reminded often enough. This wasn’t what he wanted to be using his aliens for. He shouldn’t be happy or excited, but he couldn’t help it. Everything about the omnitrix fascinated him. It always had. He used to spend ages fiddling with the device, trying to figure our how it worked. Now he was finally getting a chance to see a little more about how it operated, though he wished he was able to change the settings himself. Still, even in his situation it was exciting. 

He took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself down, resting one arm across his eyes.

He had a few hours before supper. Maybe he could nap for a little while. He closed his eyes, trying to keep his mind empty. 

Maybe tomorrow he would be allowed to use Big Chill again.

Another week had passed, so far as he could tell, and now there was a new change, and Ben wasn’t sure he liked it.

He was pacing again, glancing at his window now and then and trying to use the slice of alien sky he could see to tell the passing time.

Vilgax had gone away somewhere for two days. He had told Ben yesterday during Ben’s nightly visit. Vilgax had not given him a reason, but Ben had guessed that it made sense; Vilgax was some kind of emperor or something. He already seemed to be spending far too much time hanging around Ben. He must have other stuff he needed to oversee. Ben hadn’t said anything in response to the alien’s pronouncement, just nodded, eyes down. As the days passed and Ben continued going to the alien’s rooms in the evening, Vilgax had begun to hold him more often, and Ben had been sitting stiffly in the alien’s lap while one clawed hand played with his hair. It made his skin crawl, but he didn’t fight it. 

At the time, and given the way he was feeling, a break from Vilgax had seemed worth missing a few training sessions. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

It had only been one day, and was already a mess. His room felt small and suffocating, more so than usual. No errands with Vilgax this morning, and no training in the afternoon. The dark thoughts were swirling again and there was nothing to distract him. He was also bored, and he hadn’t been able to shift today, but it was more than that. The day had passed so slowly. He had finished supper about an hour ago, and he was feeling…lonely.  
Ben groaned mentally at the thought and tugged angrily at his collar. 

It wasn’t as though he enjoyed spending time with Vilgax. The alien gave him the creeps. He dreaded the moments when Vilgax petted him and held him, without a care for Ben’s distress which must have been all too obvious. It made Ben feel like his feeling were completely worthless. It made Ben feel like something less than human.

At the same time, Vilgax was the only person Ben could spend time with. There was no one else Ben was allowed to see or speak to or just be around, and he didn’t like being on his own. Ben had always hated being alone, and it was much worse being alone here, where his thoughts inevitably got darker and more depressing the more time he had to dwell on them. At least with Vilgax his mind was somewhat occupied. It was the same reason he visited the alien every night without being ordered, even when Vilgax’s petting made him feel even more like the alien’s pet.

Now, without Vilgax, Ben felt empty.

He stopped pacing. Through the window, he could see that the sky above the swamp was finally darkening. Vilgax wasn’t there, but maybe he could still go to the alien’s rooms this evening. It was still permitted, and at least that way he would get out of his room for a while. At least Vilgax hadn’t confined him here while he was gone.

Ben slid the door open and slipped through it. It was a little strange to be making his way towards what he knew were empty rooms. Still, the walk was nice, especially after being in that suffocating box all day. It calmed him a little to be out in the cool, stone corridors.

Halfway to Vilgax’s rooms Ben pulled up short. There was an alien standing in the hallway in front of him. It was the first time he had encountered anyone while walking on his own. Ben remembered this alien. It was Trisaara, the insect-like alien that Vilgax talked with the most often. She seemed to be in some position of authority, although still subordinate to Vilgax. As always, Ben felt a shiver go down his spine at the sight of her. Trisaara cocked her head, her antenna waving and compound eyes glittering eerily in the light of the fire basins.

“Well, well. If it isn’t the Warlord’s little human pet.” Her cold, clipped voice seemed faintly sardonic, devoid of the deference it held when she spoke to Vilgax. 

Ben would have liked to deny the assertion, but there wasn’t much he could say. It was essentially the truth. He settled for a glare instead. 

“What do you want?” He tried to sound sure of himself and not let his nervousness show. He was uncomfortably aware that there was nothing he could do to defend himself if she tried anything. He was sure Vilgax had told his subordinates not to harm him, but he didn’t know whether this alien was likely to follow those orders or not. It wasn’t something he liked to count on.

Trisaara stroked her abdomen with one long, dark blue leg. Her eyes glittered, sizing him up.

“Nothing,” she said after a moment. The narrow head tilted the other way this time and Ben had the uncomfortable feeling that he was being thoroughly scrutinized. “After all,” Trisaara continued, “you’re being a good little human and doing as you’ve been told.” She backed up a little to make room and gestured with a front leg. “Continue.”

Ben had bristled again at her assessment, but now he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He didn’t want to go any closer to this her. Still, he couldn’t quite bring himself to back down, maybe because it was the first time he’d been able to stand up for himself in what felt like forever.

He walked forward slowly, eyes on the alien. Trisaara’s mandibles clicked together and Ben managed to repress a flinch. Then he was past her. He slowly let out the breath he’d been holding. Behind him he heard a clicking chuckle. He turned sharply and looked again into the shine of her eyes.

“That’s a good human. I’ll see you again.” Turning from him, Trisaara scuttled down the corridor, her clawed feet making a soft rasping noise against the stone floor. Ben watched until she was out of sight.  
“I hope not,” he said quietly. He felt more on edge than ever after that encounter, but he might as well continue to Vilgax’s rooms. He didn’t want to go back, and at least he knew he was heading in a different direction from the alien. Slowly, he continued walking.

One more day. He would manage. 

“Now, show me this object you have found.”

“As you wish, Warlord. If you would follow me.” The young Tha-ank, identified as Captain Prasic, bowed low, both pairs of hands rubbing together nervously. Vilgax flicked a tentacle, acknowledging the gesture, then followed behind the skittish alien. It was her first time in the warlord’s presence, and she seemed very young, barely into her third stage of development. No doubt that accounted for her nervousness and the stiffness with which she performed the gestures of respect.

It was Vilgax’s first time on this salvage station, and it wasn’t the type of place he usually frequented, but after seeing the pictures and diagrams of the object in question, he felt it was necessary to go in person. He didn’t like to have it brought to Crito-Ah until he had determined exactly what it was and whether it was safely contained. 

Of course, he had needed to leave his pet behind, and that had been harder than expected. When he had made his plans initially, and even after successfully capturing the boy, Vilgax had not expected that he would be so fascinated by Ben, to the point that it was difficult to concentrate on his work when the boy was with him. The young human almost always occupied some corner of his thoughts lately, and Vilgax had started to particularly enjoy the time they spent together in the evenings, even though Ben yet to fully relax in his presence after the evening when he had fallen asleep in the warlord’s lap. The boy was gradually becoming more compliant, and more accustomed to his situation, but Vilgax needed to keep pushing. It was important that Ben become reliant on him, and that the boy be loyal, not just obedient. Ben was still fighting in some way, but he would be happy eventually. The warlord’s tentacles rippled in amusement. The human had certainly been enjoying his new food, although he tried not to show it when he ate. It was adorable.

Baring unexpected delays, he should be back at the capital by tomorrow evening, and it would be interesting to see how Ben had reacted to his absence. 

“In here, Warlord.” Captain Prasic gestured to a heavily reinforced door. “We have maintained its original temperature as you instructed.”

“Good. Any changes since its discovery?” 

“None.” Relief was evident in the Tha-ank’s rough voice. No beings liked discovering something unknown in space. Salvage ships and stations had been wiped out before by previously unidentified pathogens that clung to asteroids or space debris. Having to monitor a potentially contagious object was an unenviable position. Since seeing the energy signature of the object, Vilgax had doubted that it was infectious, but had not seen the need to disabuse the station’s workers of the notion. If it made them more careful around the object, so much the better.

Vilgax glanced meaningful at the Tha-ank when she paused before the containment room. Captain Prasic looked confused for a moment then, embarrassed, she fumbled for the sensor on the door. A five-metre section of wall turned transparent at her touch, and Vilgax looked through. The ice block looked the same as it had in the images he had seen. The conditions it had been found in had been replicated as closely as the station’s technology would allow, and it seemed stable. It was illuminated from behind, revealing a suggestion of the twisted form within. Vilgax glanced at the holographic graphs which had appeared along with the transparency. Hi eye alighted on one in particular.

“When was this scan taken?”

“This morning.” Captain Prasic touched a sensor, bringing up more details on the scan in question. “We tried scanning with the Vorpextor. It’s definitely alive, whatever it is. It seems to have been forced into hibernation by the ice.”

“Could you restore it to functionality?” Vilgax was still examining the readings and did not look at her as he asked the question.

“I believe so, Warlord.” The Tha-ank’s shoulder plates quivered slightly as she contemplated. “It doesn’t appear to have suffered any damage from the freezing.” She paused, then said hesitantly “It is difficult to tell what species it originally was. My team has discovered characteristics of at least eight different species.”

Vilgax kept his tentacles still, although amusement trickled through him again. _There are probably eleven if this was caused by what it seems to be. It may even have been human once, especially if it comes from that galactic backwater._

The creature’s energy signature was similar to that of the omnitrix, although weaker and somewhat fragmented. There was only one omnitrix, so unless it had encountered the device before it got to Earth, this creature had most likely tangled with Ben and been mutated somehow by the omnitrix’s energy. Vilgax didn’t know why the omnitrix had reacted that way, and he would probably need to thaw the creature out to determine exactly how it had happened.

“Very well,” he said, turning finally to his companion. “Ensure that it is safely contained, and then restore it. It appears grotesque, but it may be quite powerful. Do you have any other means of restraining it if it turns violent?”

“Yes, Warlord. They may take some time to prepare.” 

Vilgax flicked a tentacle in acknowledgement, and the captain departed. As she turned the corner, Vilgax could hear her already contacting her team on the station.

He looked back at the creature in the ice block. He wondered whether it had been an ally or an enemy of his little human. Either way, perhaps it would prove useful for more than answering his scientific curiosity. 

_I may have a surprise for you soon, little one._

Thanks for reading everyone.  
Ben got a couple more ‘rewards’ it seems.   
I like Wildvine. Criminally underused in my opinion. I like Big Chill too though, and it’s fun to think of what the silhouette would look like on Ben’s original omnitrix.  
Ferdinand is my made-up name for Ben’s German Shepard that we see in “Goodbye And Good Riddance.” This story is an AU starting in the middle of that episode, but apparently Ben’s dog was never named, so now he is.  
You may have noticed a little role reversal with our salvaged ice block. I hope it makes sense. Essentially, Kevin’s fight with Technorg in “Grudge Match” ended a little differently from how it seemed to go in the show.   
I hope the scene transitions worked well. I am still learning how to properly summarize events so that I don’t show every single thing that happens, so I hope this didn’t feel disjointed. Time jumps are hard, especially because I really want to write about everything that happens in minute detail.  
Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know what you think and see you all next time!


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